Black and Gold
by pickalily
Summary: A collection of ficlets about a soldier and her captain. Rivetra.
1. In the Silence

**A/N:** _Uploading from my tumblr at the request of loneghost13 3 It's separate from Such Great Heights because I want that series to explore less romantic relationships or just be character-centric fics. I'll be uploading all of my Rivetra fics from Tumblr that I haven't published on ffnet yet on here as well :) (Will be somewhat of a slow process because of school D: )_

* * *

She loves the silence, the one that follows after the last kiss when he finally falls asleep and allows himself to rest.

Petra brushes his hair away from his brow and presses a light kiss on his forehead. He doesn't stir, not even a little bit, just breathes slow and steady. He tells her he has difficulty falling sleeping most nights, but she finds that when he does fall asleep, he sleeps deeply and doesn't wake until the sunlight streams through the crack between his curtains.

She likes to observe him in the quiet, loves the peaceful look on his face because it's so different than the stern frown and knitted brows that others are more familiar to. He looks younger this way, more vulnerable, and maybe that's why he'll only really sleep if she stays by his side.

She slides her hand over his stomach, feeling his taut muscles, until it reaches his chest her hand remains over his heart. In the silence of the room, his heart's steady beat thumps against her hand and resonates against the walls.

When he wakens, that perpetual scowl beginning to appear on his face, she smiles.

"The fuck are you looking at?" he grumbles, already sitting up in bed.

And she follows him like she always does, leans against his back and wraps her arms around him with her head resting on his shoulder. "Just you," she replies when he turns his head to look at her. "I was looking at you."

* * *

 **Prompt:** _Silence (Rivetra Week - Day 1)_

 **Word Count:** _249_


	2. Kindness and Cruelty

**A/N:** _Another prompt from Rivetra week. Quite proud of this one and even got a fanart of it on tumblr too! You can check it out on_ _bluinary( )tumblr( )com/post/170590991623/and-thats-when-she-does-it-the-cruelest-things :) It made me very happy because it's the first fanart I have ever gotten of my work! I feel like I can write a lot more now!_

* * *

He's never been able to sleep after expeditions. He spends the night trying to wash the blood off his hands, but it seems they've been stained red. It's fine though, he thinks as he scrubs his hands raw, because the roaring of the water from the faucet drowns out the screams of the innocent who died in battle. Ah, but it's even worse this time because it wasn't an expedition; it was a breach in Wall Maria.

He should be used to bloodshed after all his time in the military. He should be used to it because of his time in the Underground. He should be used to it after all the lives he failed to save. But he's not, and he never will be.

It's like that dying soldier that afternoon, the one whose hand he clasped. Too young to die, too young to have pledge his life to such a hopeless cause, and too young to know any better. The soldier's mother was probably grieving for him right now, crying for her dead son.

"Captain," the young boy had called him. Like he trusted him to lead humanity to victory. To annihilate the Titans. Trusted him to do these things that Levi knew he could never do.

"Captain," a gentle voice says now.

He turns and there's Petra, reaching across him to turn off the water.

"I think that's enough, Captain," she tells him, pulling his hands away from the sink and drying them with a towel. She frowns when she sees the streaks of red that stain the rag. "You're bleeding now."

"I was trying to wash that off," Levi mutters, pulling his hands away from her. He has the urge to switch on the water again and thrust his hand beneath the scalding water, but he knows she'll only scold him so he continues to wipe his hand even though he's only his smearing more blood onto the rag.

Gentle hands cover his, and she looks up at him. "Wash it again, gently this time," Petra says. "I'll get bandages to stop the bleeding."

He knows how to tend to his own wounds and doesn't need her to coddle him. It's late though and she's already walking to the cabinets where the bandages are kept, so he might as well just wash off the blood again.

"Give them here," Petra says. She pats his hands dry after he finishes washing and wraps the bandages around his hands where they were cracked and bleeding. "Captain Levi, you're a strict captain. But you're a kind man."

He raises an eyebrow. "Is there a reason why you felt the need to say that to me at this time?"

"The look on your face," she replies. "It's the look of a troubled man with sins on his shoulders. But those sins aren't yours, so shed them off. And everyone else might think you're a cruel captain, but we know all know you hate the sight of our blood the most. You're not a bad man."

He glances at her briefly before taking the bandages away from her. "That's enough," he says.

* * *

His soldiers' movements have grown sluggish and Gunter and Auruo have nearly collided while training with the 3DMG, so he calls off training for the rest of the day. They can take a break or maybe a fucking shower since they stink of mud and sweat.

"That captain of ours must be some sort of sadist," Eld says when he thinks Levi is out of earshot. "If we're not eating or shitting, we're running drills all day."

Gunter elbows Eld in the gut, either because his comrade is whispering too loudly or using such vulgar language, and hisses, "Hey, complain about it later, will you?"

"I don't remember what it was like to not be sore all over the place," Auruo groans, rubbing the muscles in his arms.

"It hurts now, but he's doing us a kindness, isn't he?" Petra asks. She stretches her arms over her head and winces at the soreness of her whole body. "We'd be easy Titan fodder outside of the Walls otherwise."

"Kindness is a strange way to put it," Eld says, but he ruffles Petra's hair anyway and gives her a grin.

* * *

"So tell me, Petra," Levi says, observing the way his tea swirls around in his nearly empty cup. "Give me your honest opinion."

She sits across the table from him, her teacup tilted upwards mid-sip. Her lips part, and she tilts her head curiously at him. "Honest opinion, sir?" she repeats.

"That's what I said."

"About what, sir?"

"About me," he replies, setting his cup down on the table. He leans back in his chair to observe her better and notices that she doesn't even flinch at the withering glare he gives her. "You really think I'm a kind man? Or are you seeking favors from me?"

Frustratingly enough, she doesn't give him an answer straightaway. Instead she takes a long, slow sip of her tea before she speaks again. "I think, sir, that you're quite rude."

"Rude?" If he hadn't already set down his tea cup, he'd be slamming down on the table right now out of annoyance. Rude? Him? He's heard people say it – Hanji, Erwin, nearly everybody else behind his back – but how dare she say it to his face?

"Don't be offended, sir," she says, not even batting an eyelash when his clenched fist comes down on the table. "You did tell me to be honest after all, and it is quite rude to assume that I lied to win your favor, don't you think?"

He gives her an unhappy grunt that means neither "yes" or "no."

"Did you want me to say more, or have you heard enough of my thoughts regarding you?" she asks. The raised cup hides most of her mouth, but he can see the upturned corners that hint at a teasing smile.

"Just say it outright," he growls at her.

Petra sets her cup down finally, revealing her amused grin. "I meant it the very first time I said it, Captain," she tells him. "I think you're a kind man."

Those are all the words she says, and he finds that he has no words in response. He observes her instead with that cold, steely gaze that makes others turn away. To his surprise, she gazes back at him without even blinking.

He's the one who finally looks away, standing up and holding out a hand. "Give me your cup. You're done drinking, aren't you?"

She doesn't say anything. Just hands him her cup with that smile on her face.

* * *

He always thought himself as cold, but perhaps he wasn't cold enough.

"Levi?" she says quietly. "Did you hear me?"

Of course, he heard her. How could he not in the quiet of this goddamn hall? If anything, she's said it too loud. Not loud enough to wake the others and have them overhear the dangerous words she speaks, but loud enough for the three words to echo in his mind, to pound through his heart, and haunt him in the middle of the night.

"It's late."

"So you're just going to pretend that this never happened?" she asks, her voice quivering. Her hands, which had been nervously clasped just moments before, begin to reach for her mouth as if to stop any other words from coming out. "Why…?"

He wants her name to roll off his tongue, slip between his lips, but he knows that will hurt her more. "Ral," he says. "It's late."

Throughout this whole time, she hasn't turned away, not even as her eyes begin to well up with tears that threaten to fall at any moment now.

"I know why you're being so cold. I'm sure you're doing me a kindness, and I'm sure I'll thank you later on. But why does it hurt so much?"

Who's crueler? He wonders. Is it her for confessing these feelings that can never be returned, or is it him for having to turn her away? And does she know that this hurts him too?

Somehow there's something familiar about how he's turning away from her now, shutting the door in her face and pretending not to hear her muffled sobs from the other side.

* * *

He's never liked sleeping, but he's more afraid to do it tonight in this empty castle. He knows they'll come back to haunt him, ask him why he didn't come in time and why he had to leave them behind. He has answers to these questions, but none of them will be good enough. There's no excuse.

But what he's frightened of the most is seeing her face again, a sad, sorrowful smile as she tells him that it's fine that he abandoned her. That he had declared their corpses to be useless now that they were dead. That he couldn't even keep the fucking badge from her goddamn jacket.

And he knows that her ghost will comfort him, tell him that he did what must be done, and that it doesn't matter that the other soldiers will believe him to be a cruel monster because she knows the truth.

If he had been any more kind, would she still have ended up dead?

You know what was cruel? The first night. The very first night when he was working late, and she and the rest of his soldiers had just arrived at the castle.

"Captain?"

He looks to his side where one of his new subordinate stands, her hand gently on the sleeve of his shirt.

"What?" he grunts. Unused to being touched by anyone, he pulls his arm away from her a little too quickly. He clears his throat before speaking again. "What are you doing here so late at night?"

"Can't one ask the same of you?" she says in reply. When she notices his narrowed eyes, she tacks on a quick "Sir" at the end.

He looks at her and she flinches from his gaze before looking back at him, biting her lip as if she's afraid she's said the wrong thing.

"Paperwork," he finally tells her, tapping his pen onto the forms he has yet to read over and sign. "What's your excuse, soldier?"

"Ral, Sir. Petra Ral." She stands at a salute, her fist over her heart, before letting the hand fall back to her side. There's a sheepish smile on her face when she answers his question. "I had trouble sleeping, Sir, so I came down to make a cup of tea and noticed your light was on. And, ah, your door was open, but you didn't notice that I came in."

No, he supposes he didn't. Too preoccupied with all these goddamn forms that Erwin wants him to sign, and he keeps feeling himself nod off because reading these tiny printed characters bores him to death.

"Were you that eager to read these forms?" Levi asks, rapping a few of them on his desk. "You'll have to climb the ranks a little higher first."

She blinks a bit, not getting the joke. "Actually, Sir, I was just popping in to ask if you'd like a cup of tea too."

It's strange to be having a cup of tea in the middle of the night, but he's never been fond of sleeping anyway. "Bring it over when you've made it," he tells her, turning his back on her.

"Of course, Captain." He's sure she gives him another salute before she leaves, one he doesn't see, but he hears her retreating footsteps and nearly forgets all about her until she comes back later that night as he begins to fall in and out of consciousness.

"Captain?" she says softly, setting the tray down. It's a whole pot of tea but there's only one cup. "Your tea is ready."

He waves his hand around at where she's left the tray. "Just leave it there," he mutters. He rubs at his face to help himself wake up a little. "And head back to bed yourself, Ral. It's late."

"Yes, Sir." There's that salute again. He should really tell her to stop. It's unsettling to have it done so many times, not to mention a waste of energy as well. Ah, but that's a conversation for another day when it's not so late and he's not so tired.

He's about to turn back to his papers and attempt to read through them again, but he hears her footsteps stop for a second. When he turns around, he sees Petra stuck between his room and the hallway outside.

"Spit it out," he says somewhat impatiently.

"I just wanted to say," Petra says hesitantly, "good night."

It's his turn to stare blankly at her, not quite processing her words. He wonders if he should just ignore her and return to his papers, but he's been rude enough to her. Awkwardly, he mumbles, "Yes, good night."

And that's when she does it, the cruelest thing she could ever do. She smiles at him. He doesn't know it then, but that smile is the worst thing that will ever happen to him because he'll look for it in her face every time he sees her, and it'll kill him when he never sees it again.

* * *

 **Prompt:** _Cruelty (Rivetra Week - Day 2)_

 **Word Count:** _2,223_


	3. Tears for the Devil

**A/N:** _I liked the vibe that Lucifer, the Fox show that was adapted from Neil Gaiman's comic story, gave but eventually wound up dropping it in the end because crime shows kind of feel the same to me. Some angst-y moments reminded me of Levi though and I can really see him as a devil at times~ That would be pretty cool!_

* * *

He's seen the way people look at him. Lust in their eyes. Wrath. Greed. Fear. Hatred. Those last two especially. He hated it at first, but he's grown accustomed to it. Now he doesn't mind the heated glares, the mournful tears, or the lecherous gazes. But it's been a while since anyone has ever looked at him in awe and wonder. He can feel her gaze on his back; he wishes he could turn back and see that look in her amber eyes, but he doesn't want to turn back to find that he's wrong. That her wide-eyed gaze is shock and horror that will quickly turn to disgust and revulsion. Somehow he can't bear the thought of her running away from him.

He sits there instead, his back turned to her because he can't bear to look at her face, and stares ahead at the blank wall. He concentrates instead on the spiraling smoke from his lit cigarette that sits untouched between his fingers.

It's as if a million years have passed when she finally speaks.

"Levi." It's only a whisper, but it's enough for him to read the tone of her voice. Shock. Fear. Awe. "What happened?"

He could dance around the question, pretend he doesn't know she's asking about the scars on his back, but he's never been good at conversation. Thinking up of clever words and ways to distract her, that's too much work. So he says it outright even though he's sure she won't believe him.

"There's a story from a long time ago. When a devil rises from hell, it's after they fell from heaven," he tells her. He raises the cigarette to his lips but doesn't bother to take a drag. He just watches as the end of it burns and crumbles away, the ash spilling onto the bedroom floor. "You'd think hell is the worst part, but it's not. It's right before that. The fall. It's when they rip out your wings and shove you out of paradise because of one thing – _just one fucking thing, Petra_ – and they shut the doors on you."

Ah. Temper, he thinks, as he looks down at the crumbled cigarette that he had crushed in his fist. There's hardly a mark from where it had burned him, but he's used to it. He's untouchable, and it's only know that he's thinking how lonely it is to live in such a way for so long.

She's quiet for so long that he would have though she left, but there are no footsteps and the door doesn't make a sound. When her fingers trace the scars on his skin, it's then that he knows that she's there and there's a brief feeling of relief that she hasn't run away.

"Does that mean…?" Her voice quivers, but it's not out of fear. It's something else that he can't quite put his finger on.

"I'm one of those devils," he finishes for her. "Yes."

"…you were an angel?" she says instead, surprising him. Her finger stops before she covers the scar with her hand as if to hide it away from the world, make it disappear. A moment later, he feels her resting her forehead right between the scars on his back.

"Are you scared of me?"

She doesn't respond and instead asks a question of her own. "Hey, Levi," she asks, her voice still trembling. She rubs the scar with a slow, gentle thumb. "Did it hurt?"

He almost scoffs at the question, something turned into one of those stupid pickup lines, but he remembers the wings being ripped from his back. No time to heal, and he was already locked out and dropped into the underworld. The searing pain sometimes comes back to him even though it's been years and years. And her touch – cool, gentle, soothing, _tender_ – is so different from it.

"Yes," he hisses. Can a voice really shake so much in one word? But maybe he's just imagining it in this dark, quiet room. "It hurt. Of course, it hurt. It hurt so much."

Something drips onto his back – tears, he realizes – and they burn into his back, but it's a different sort of sensation than the phantom pain he feels every night or so.

Ah, he could make a joke about this, these tears for the devil, if only he weren't shedding some of his own.

* * *

 **Prompt:** _Fantasy (Rivetra Week - Day 4)_

 **Word Count:** _719_

 **A/N:** _I'm still working on two more Rivetra week pieces that I'll hopefully finish before the end of next week :) Cheers to everyone~_


	4. Bargain

**A/N:** _Someone asked me for a gang AU (or WW2 AU) and I ended up doing something inspired by Peaky Blinders. The whole series reminds me of Levi, lol. I really liked the first season although the ones that followed weren't nearly as good. I like the more serious things but the romance was a bit much for me ^^"_

* * *

"Who the hell are you?"

Petra's cheeks flush from being greeted so rudely. If you can call that a greeting. She hadn't expected to be greeted at all – perhaps a nod of acknowledgement – but she wishes the man hadn't noticed her at all.

The man appears to be about her age, perhaps a bit older, with a blond hair and light gray eyes. It doesn't look as if he means to be rude, Petra thinks from his genuinely curious expression; he just has a crude way of speaking. He doesn't jeer at her the way other men did when she was walking through the streets to reach this place either, which she's grateful for. She's already scared enough coming here as it is.

"There was something in a paper," Petra tells him, trying not to avoid his gaze or appear in any way nervous. "Your company had an opening. A secretary position." She hurriedly unfolds the scrap of paper she had crumpled in her hand. After she smooths it out as best as she can, she holds it out to him. It's a notice that had been in the paper for the last few days. _Ackerman Company Limited seeking secretary,_ it says.

The man glances at the paper for only a second. "So it does," he says, snatching it away from her. She thinks that perhaps he'll inspect it further because he doesn't remember it, but he quickly crumples it in his fist and shoves it into his pocket He looks back at her stunned face. "Position's full. Thanks for comin' anyway, miss."

She stops him from closing the door on her, sticking her foot in the crack and not caring if he slams the door on it. She'd rather a bruised foot than that door slammed in her face. "Please," she pleads with him. "Surely there are other odd jobs that I can do instead. I just…Please let me speak with Mr. Ackerman. I'm sure I could find a way to be useful."

The man looks as if he's going to argue with her, but he decides not to. He takes a quick glance behind him before stepping outside with her. "Are you really that desperate for a job?" he asks. He looks her up and down, observing her dress and frowning. "You don't look like you're doing poorly. If you're not married already, I'm sure you could marry yourself a decent man and not have to worry about working a day for the rest of your life…. but you have to understand, miss, this isn't really a place for you."

She swallows nervously. "I know what sort of business people like you and Mr. Ackerman get to. I'm not frightened of it."

"I'm sure you're not," the man says, not impressed. "You haven't seen with it your own eyes, after all. It's dirty work. Girls like you shouldn't be a part of things like this."

She hates it when people talk like this, as if she hadn't seen her own fair share of blood and gore. Only a year ago everyone was hiding in bomb shelters, constantly wracked with fear and worry that their city would be the next to be engulfed in flames. It's a sin to hate the men who went off to war. They fought for their country after all, spilled the enemy's blood to save their families, but they come back and act like they were the only ones who had seen death. As if the rest stayed home and waited, time standing still for them while the soldiers went to war. But she was there just like so many others. Waiting, yes, but she was one of the many who nursed wounded soldiers, watched them as they had nightmares of the battlefield, and watched them as they died. Soon their nightmares tainted her dreams too and she still had nightmares even though the war had ended so long ago.

Before she had been too nervous to properly look him in the eye, but now she gazes at him easily. "I can handle it," she assures him.

He recognizes that look in her eye – that tired, sorrowful look that he had too – but simply says, "Go home." He turns his back on her and reaches for the doorknob, but the door opens before he gets to it.

A girl that looks even younger than Petra stands at the doorway. She looks at the man and then at Petra, a confused look on her face. "Farlan, what are you doing talking to this girl outside?" she asks. She opens the door wider, already ushering Petra in despite Farlan's protests not to let her in.

"She's not supposed to be here," Farlan says through gritted teeth. He glances at Petra and lowers her voice. "Isabel, you know he'd never accept her."

The young girl – Isabel, Peta reminds herself – rolls her eyes and ignores him. She hooks her arm through Petra's, quite comfortable around her despite being strangers. She must be very friendly, Petra thinks.

"He's very rude for not inviting you in. You're not seeing him, are you? Good," Isabel says after she sees Petra shaking her head. She turns back to glare at Farlan. "Because if you were, I would have slapped him for keeping you out in the cold. Although I should slap him anyway. That isn't a way to treat a lady."

"Thank you," Petra mumbles. She introduces herself to the girl and Isabel gushes about what a wonderful name she has, saying how pretty it is as it rolls off the tongue and then asking the meaning of it.

She finds Isabel to have this casual and unrefined way of speaking – similar to how Farlan speaks – but she has a warmth and friendliness in her tone that Farlan lacks. It makes her quite easy to talk to, Petra thinks.

"She's here for the job in the paper," Farlan tells Isabel. "I told her it was full."

Isabel raises her eyebrows. "Why did you tell her that? It's still open." She turns to Petra. "It's open. Don't listen to him. I'm sure you'd be a wonderful secretary. I'll take you to Levi. He'll be impressed if you're an excellent typist. You know there are some people who can type with their eyes closed? Not me. I'm terrible at typing and I don't know how to spell properly half the time, but I suppose it's important to have things typed out if you're an expanding company like Ackerman." She's jabbering on excitedly, leading Petra through the small house-turned-business.

There are other people sitting throughout the house, pouring over books or arguing over business. Some of them are older than her, but most of them are around her age or maybe a year or two younger. When they see her walking through the house with Isabel and Farlan, they fall silent and observe her quietly, sharing curious glances at each other. As she passes by, she hears hushed whispers fall behind her. She doesn't have to hear what they're saying to know that they're talking about her.

"Just our book boys," Isabel says to her. She must not know or just doesn't care about the exasperated look that Farlan gives her because she continues to explain. "They're just for the small transactions and whatnot. Always good to have a handful of them, you know. The rest of them are out about the racetracks and whatnot. I'm sure it's a big pain in the ass for the treasurer to have to add up everything later in the big book, so these guys have it easy in comparison."

"You sure are talking a lot," Farlan mutters.

"There are hardly any other girls to talk to around her," Isabel says defensively. She clutches Petra's arm tighter as they go up the stairs. "Hanji's lovely, but she can get a bit strange. Mikasa doesn't want any part of this whole thing, so she doesn't talk to me as much anymore. I don't even know why. It's not as if we have to talk business all the time, you know. But it would be so wonderful to have someone like you in the company, Petra. Talking to men all of the time is so boring!"

"Then maybe you should spend your time elsewhere," Farlan mutters, but Isabel ignores it like she always does.

They're on the second floor of the house now. Petra notices that the house is incredibly tidy despite the many people that seem to occupy it during business hours. There isn't a speck of dust to be found anywhere.

There's a room at the end of the hall. As they approach it, Isabel is explaining how Levi ("But I guess you'll call him Mr. Ackerman 'cause you're polite like that. Everyone else around him just calls him Levi most of the time. Only the newbies call him Mr. Ackerman 'cause he scares the shit out of them," Isabel snickers.) is usually holed up in his room going over paperwork if he's not out and about making deals with others. Although Isabel has hinted that Mr. Ackerman has a short temper and many on the streets fear him so much they hardly talk of him except in hushed whispers, Isabel and Farlan speak of him like he's just a grumpy man instead of someone to be afraid of.

Isabel pops her head into the doorway of the room without even knocking. "Someone's here for you, Levi," she chirps. She doesn't even wait for Levi to respond, already opening the door for Petra to walk in. "This is Petra. She's interested in applying for the secretary position. She saw the notice for it in the paper."

Petra walks in and only has a brief moment to take him in.

He's surprisingly short. She thinks someone who's supposed to be so intimidating and feared should be, well, larger, but he can only be an inch or two taller than she is. Still, there's something frightening about him. The gaze from his steel gray eyes sends shivers up her spin, but he only looks at her for a second before he opens his mouth.

"Position's filled," he says, repeating the same thing Farlan had told her earlier. The way he says it is different though. With Farlan, he was willing to talk to her more, give her his sympathies and suggestions on where else to seek work if she truly needed it. This man just looks back to the paperwork on his desk, ending the conversation completely.

"I was trying to say that earlier," Farlan mumbles. He already has his hand on Petra's shoulder, showing her the way out. "If you really need help, we can help you look for something better, but this secretarial position isn't something you'd really want anyway…"

Isabel is still confused, not understanding why they're lying. "It isn't full unless you found someone about two seconds ago before she arrived," Isabel says. She's clearly upset although Petra isn't sure why. They've only known each other for a few minutes. "Come on, Levi. We could use more women. More class, you know."

The man at the desk only sighs before looking up. She thinks that he's going to yell at Isabel for bringing her here, but he turns his gaze to Petra. "This isn't the sort of work for you," he tells her. "You're in the wrong place."

She hates being told that. Hates it. So she wrenches her arm away from Farlan's grip and marches right up to Mr. Ackerman's desk. Behind her Farlan whispers, "What the _fuck_ is she doing?" But she doesn't care if she's being reckless. She needs to speak with him.

"I don't care for the job," she says straightaway. She knows this might get her kicked out, admitting that she has her own personal reasons to discuss with Mr. Ackerman instead of business, but she doesn't care at this point. She speaks quickly to keep him from cutting her off and forcing her to leave the room. "I know what sort of business you conduct, Mr. Ackerman. I know about how your bookie business operates and I know about the fixed races that your men set up. And I know about the mess you and your gang get up to, all the fighting it leads up to with the other gangs because you're too ambitious with your expansion, and all the innocents who are killed in the way."

The way he looks at her scares her. He's so emotionless as he sits there, his face unfathomable. She thinks that he might be a monster. Who else can remain so calm once accused of all his sins? But then he speaks.

"Farlan, Isabel, go check the others downstairs," he tells them.

"So are you going to hire her-?" Isabel asks, but Farlan shushes her and pushes her towards the door.

He motions for Petra to sit down in the chair across his desk. "Is there a reason why you're here, or did you just come to show me the blood on my hands?" he asks. He pulls out a cigarette from the inside of his coat and offers one to her, but she declines. Shrugging, he puts the cigarette in his mouth and lights it. "If it's compensation you'd like for a loved one, that won't be a problem."

"Do you think we are all so easily replaced with money?" Petra asks, laughing bitterly. "No, I want you to never have to pay me for the loss of my loved ones. But they've come to work for you anyway."

He takes a drag of his cigarette. "Seems like a predicament," he says unsympathetically. "Would you like me to fire them? That seems like it would cause more trouble for your friends though."

Petra purses her lips. "I'd like to work for you, sir," she tells him. "Let me work in their place. There are certain things I can do that they can't after all. And you have so many book boys anyway; Putting them in less dangerous jobs where they aren't highly involved in your business wouldn't be too much trouble, would it?"

He doesn't look as if he believes her but then again, it's difficult to tell what he's thinking at all. "Would you fuck someone if I needed you to?" he asks bluntly.

Her cheeks color at his crude wording. "I don't," she mumbles. "N-no, I don't think I could."

"Then you're useless to me," he tells her. He's already turning his attention back to the paperwork on his desk and she knows he's losing interest in what she says to say.

"That's not entirely true," Petra says desperately. "I know how to get people to talk to me…tell me things without realizing because they don't think I'm someone they need to fear."

He sighs, no longer wishing to talk to her any further. "Like I said before, this isn't a place for a girl like you. If your friends want to work here, that's their own problem. Don't get tangled up in it," he tells her. He takes a stack of papers and reads them lazily, but she can tell that he's really just waiting for her to leave.

She doesn't know how anyone can be so cold. She doesn't want to cry, not in front of him, but she doesn't want to leave either. If she leaves now, then she won't have done anything at all.

"Auruo, Eld, and Gunter," she says to him. She knows the names probably have no meaning to him at all. "They were recently recruited to work in your business. But we've all been friends since childhood. They're like brothers to me. When they left for the war, I left with them. I couldn't fight like they did, but I was there for them. I was there for them with every bullet, every wound, and every nightmare. I'm not leaving them now."

His eyes have finally stopped scanning the page and even though he isn't looking at her, his gaze has softened. It finally looks as though he's thinking over what she's said.

"We don't have a position open for you here," he tells her again. She's about to open her mouth to argue with him again but he continues. "I hear there's a need for a barmaid at the pub at the very edge of Shiganshina though. It's called the Legion. Do you know how to serve drinks?"

She's so speechless that she almost doesn't reply. "I can learn how, sir," she tells him. She's trying hard not to smile. She shouldn't be so happy. There's no doubt that she'll soon be roped into dangerous business, but if it will keep her friends away from it then it'll be worth it.

"Bookies are important. They need to keep track of the transaction's properly, so demoting them to a lower position is sometimes necessary," Levi says out loud although it's difficult to tell if he's addressing he. He seems to be talking to the ceiling, puffing out a cloud of smoke and watching it disappear as it rises. He finally looks back at her and nods, giving her a sign of approval. "Barmaids, on the other hand, don't really matter after all. You could be any sort of person and get the job. And it's easy to overhear things when you're working in a bar."

She can hardly contain her happiness. She's struggling to bite back a smile. "Thank you, sir," she says, bowing her head.

"Talk to the bartender at the Legion. His name is Mike. Tell him you have my recommendation," Levi says.

"Yes, sir!" She walks out of the room before he can change his mind.

When she leaves the room, Isabel and Farlan are next to the door with sheepish expressions on their faces. Still, Isabel looks absolutely ecstatic when Petra comes out and gives her an enthusiastic hug.

"Welcome to the Ackerclan," she grins.

* * *

"Never thought you'd be giving a girl like her a job with us," Farlan muses later that night.

Levi shrugs. "She was desperate. And barmaids don't run into too much trouble unless the pub's particularly rowdy. At least Mike knows how to control his customers," Levi replies. He takes a drag of his cigarette. "You'll keep an eye on it?"

Farlan raises an eyebrow. "Worried about your barmaid?" he asks jokingly. "I thought you said Mike knew how to keep things under control."

He could tell him that it's just an extra precaution. The patrons might get rowdy now that there's a woman there to serve them, but he knows Farlan would only scoff at him. He only mutters, "Get it done."

Farlan scoffs anyway. "You've gotten soft, Levi."

Maybe he is. Why else would he be looking at this list of names hastily scribbled after his meeting with that girl? Auruo, Eld, Gunter. He could make them do more manual labor instead.

Or, he thinks as he watches Farlan leave for the pub, he could think about it over a drink. Not to see the girl again, of course. Just for the drink.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I have a few more non-Rivetra requests to work on but I'm going to be working on a Kimi no na wa AU for Rivetra since I finally watched the movie and a friend asked for it a while ago :) See ya~_

 **Word count:** _3, 191_


	5. In the Place Where We'll Meet

**A/N:** _I'm going to be embarrassed forever for forgetting to add line breaks to this._

* * *

Every night she dreams of the same boy.

He sits beside her as they stare at the horizon where the sun kisses the earth before it leaves to meet the sky. It illuminates the sky with brilliant colors – pinks and purples, golds and blues – like a watercolor painting.

She feels like she's seen him before, perhaps in a place like this, and she asks, "Who are you?"

The boy with the raven hair and the silver eyes leans over to whisper his name in her ear and she whispers it back to him, letting it slip from her lips.

Before she can open her mouth to give him her name, the sun lifts itself into the sky and all the colors fade to black.

She wakes up in her bedroom all alone, his name already fading from her lips. She can hardly recall the color of his eyes or the way he looked at her just before they had to leave.

Every morning she wakes up crying, but she doesn't know why.

* * *

She goes to school, but she can't pay attention to the lecture despite knowing that the material will definitely be on the quiz tomorrow. All she can think about is the dream she can't remember. She can't remember any of her dreams lately. All that comes up is a blank space.

"Petra," Eld says, sitting next to her once break starts. His voice shakes her from her thoughts. He looks at her, concerned. Usually it's Gunter who's worrying after her, so she wonders why he looks at her with such an expression. "Are you alright? You didn't seem like yourself yesterday."

She sits up and gives him a puzzled look. "Wasn't I?" she asks. She doesn't remember doing anything out of the ordinary yesterday. She has been feeling rather odd lately, but it's not like her to act in ways that would let people know. "Did I do something strange?"

Her friends exchange looks with each other.

"Well, you weren't as cheerful," Gunter finally says. It doesn't sound like that big of a deal, not acting that cheerful, but Gunter keeps looking at her nervously and she wonders what she did yesterday to make him act this way. "You scowled a lot and were a little…uh, rude."

"Rude?"

Auruo slaps his hand on the table to get her attention. "You were downright cruel, saying my haircut was stupid just after I said good morning to you. You talked back to the teacher as well and were made to clean the classroom after school, although you were strangely happy about that. You said this place was a mess!" Auruo gives her a glare, probably still hurt from the insult he claims she gave him yesterday. "I know your feelings for me are making you feel strange things, but you don't have to be so horrible!"

She'd pinch him, but she's thinking over what he's said. She can't remember any of it. When she looks up, her friends are still giving her looks of concern, so she forces a smile on her face to ease their worry. "Ah, I was having an off day yesterday. Sorry I was acting so strangely."

They look at her suspiciously but say nothing further, instead talking about what to expect for tomorrow's quiz. She tries to engage with them during their conversation, but all she can think about the things they've mentioned that she can't remember.

That night she sees him again, the boy with the raven hair. They're observing that same twilight that they always do. She knows she's been here several times before with the same boy.

She feels strange speaking to him, the boy she only sees in her dreams, and thinks he's very quiet. He just sits there observing the sun as it begins its ascension to the sky. She wonders if it would be terrible for her to interrupt him while he's lost in thought, but he probably doesn't dislike her or mind her company because he's always watching the dawn with her.

"Why do we always meet here?" Petra asks him when she finally musters up the courage.

"You don't like it?" he asks. She wonders why the sound of his voice makes her heart skip a beat or why she feels like she's heard him speak many times before.

It takes her a minute to realize that hasn't given him an answer yet because she's been staring at him. Brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she says, "I'm just wondering, why here?"

He pauses for the longest time and she thinks that maybe he doesn't want to talk to her, that maybe her presence is a bother to him. Of all the times they've met here, how many times have they actually spoken to each other? But maybe it's because he was deciding whether or not to speak with her, deciding if she needs to know what he's about to say. He must have decided it was alright in the end because he finally replies, "It's the best place to meet. It's where the night meets day. My family says…that's where everything can happen."

The look he gives her makes her turn away. It's like she's supposed to realize something, but she doesn't know what he's trying to tell her. She averts her gaze to look at the dawn instead, hoping he won't think her rude.

As the sun rises, the colors blend and bleed into each other across the sky. She knows she's probably seen in a million times over in dreams like this one, but the sight of it still takes her breath away.

"It's beautiful," she says.

He looks at her for a moment before turning his gaze back to the sun rising in the sky. As it leaves the earth, the colors around it begin to fade to black.

"It's okay," the boy finally says before they disappear.

* * *

When she wakes up, she doesn't recognize the face in the mirror. She's supposed to have ginger hair and amber eyes, but the face staring back has black hair, a sour frown, and tired gray eyes. She leans closer to the mirror, thinking that perhaps she's still half-asleep, but the face stays the same. Maybe it's a dream? But this face looks so familiar…

The door slams open and a girl with dark hair bursts in. Her face has a similar expression that matches the one on Petra's new face, but the frown is less severe. When the girl sees Petra jump at her sudden appearance, she doesn't look even slightly sorry.

"Oh, you're her again, aren't you?" the girl asks.

"I'm, er, her?" Petra says. She doesn't quite know how to wrap her head around any of this. Why is she in such a strange place? Why is she wearing the face of a stranger? And who is this girl who has come into her room? She looks at the girl, hoping that she'll be able to give her some clarity. "You know who I am?"

"Sort of," the girl replies. She doesn't seem at all concerned at Petra's confusion, instead turning away already to leave. "It's normal for us, so it's not a big deal. If you don't hurry, you'll be late for school. He'll be mad if you miss school for him. He's already been marked absent for so many days although that's mostly his own fault."

The girl has barely said anything to her, but Petra feels more and more confused with every word she speaks. When she says "he," she must be referring to the owner of the body she's wearing. The girl doesn't look particularly worried and she did say this was "normal," but what exactly is this? Is it body switching or strange dreams? She hopes it's the latter because if she's in his body then that must mean…

"Are you coming or not?" the girl asks, popping her head back in to check on Petra.

"Er, I'll come!" Petra says hurriedly, grabbing the bag that hangs on the chair and rushing out. She doubts that the girl will be able to answer all her questions and there's a big chance she'll still be lost after all the explanation, but she'd rather not be left alone.

* * *

"I had the strangest dream," Petra says to the boy that night. She observes him out of the corner of her eye, not wanting him to catch her staring. That would be too creepy. "I looked just like you."

"That's funny because I had the same dream except I was you," the boy replies. He doesn't sound surprised at all. He's exactly like how the girl was, Petra thinks.

"Oh," Petra says. She curls up her legs under her chin and wraps her arms around them. When she sees the boy is too busy staring at the dawn to notice her, she lets herself look at him freely. It's strange to think that she was wearing his body, same face, same eyes, same hands. "These people who looked like you, in my dream they said you were your family, they said it was normal."

She expects him to laugh or perhaps just look at her with an unamused smile and tell her it was nonsense, that it was just a weird dream, but he says, "It is."

"I don't…"

"Don't think about it to much," the boy says. He turns his gaze from the sun to her. "What did you do in that dream then when you were me?"

"I just went to school and took notes. This girl who said she was your cousin, Mikasa, showed me to the school and these people named Isabel and Farlan helped explain things to me," she tells him. Hearing him refer to it as a dream calms her nerves a bit. He also seems a bit friendlier than normal, so it makes her feel less nervous about talking to her. "What did you do when you were me?"

He's quiet for a moment before he replies. "I punched one of the guys who went to your school," he finally says.

"What?" Petra exclaims, alarmed. How can he say something like this so calmly? "I'd never do something like that!"

"I know," he replies. He's turned to the sun, the rays of light caressing his face, and she can see that he's smirking slightly as he's talking to her. "That's what your friends said too."

* * *

When she arrives at school that morning, she notices that her friends are staring at her strangely. She thinks that Auruo will start telling her why they're gawking – he never knows how to keep his mouth shut – but he stares at her with the same sort of bewilderment that Eld and Gunter do.

Not being able to stand the silence any longer, Petra asks, "Is something the matter?"

Eld is the one who finally breaks the silence. "Are you…you today?" he asks, peering at her face closely.

Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, Petra pushes his face away and frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"Petra, you don't remember? You…punched someone in the face yesterday," Gunter says. "He had to go to the infirmary because his nose was bleeding so much. You had detention afterward too."

Petra opens her mouth but closes it again when she realizes she has nothing to say. She doesn't remember that at all, but the incident sounds vaguely familiar to her. It's as if someone had mentioned it to her before, but who was it?

"You said it was because he was acting violently towards you after you rejected his confession," Eld tells her. He watches her face closely to see if she has any recollection of the events.

She buries her face in her hands. Her head feels as if it's about to split from dealing with all these strange things lately. "Do you know who it was that I punched?" she asks weakly. She hopes it was someone she hardly knows, a stranger from another class who admired her from afar. It would be easier than if she had punched an acquaintance.

"Just some bastard from the class across the hall," Auruo replies. He leans back in his chair, a smug expression on his face. "Don't worry. I told him you were especially offended because we were dating."

Petra groans loudly. She thought punching a student in the face would be bad enough, but Auruo just had to make it worse.

* * *

When she sees the boy sitting so calmly like he does in all her dreams, she can't help but feel a little miffed. Instead of sitting beside him like she usually does, she stomps over to him until she blocks his view.

"You _punched_ someone in the face?" she asks, absolutely infuriated. "Do you know how this looks for me?"

He looks right past her. "I told you that before," he says. "I was doing you a favor anyway. That guy was a real asshole."

Petra glares at him. "You might be the one in control of my body, but it's still mine and it's still my life. I don't want you wrecking my reputation by punching every asshole you come across."

He shrugs and she thinks that it's his way of showing that he doesn't care, but he says, "Alright. I won't do those sorts of things anymore if you don't want me to."

She'd like to stay mad at him, but she's not the type to hold grudges. Besides, he does seem like the kind of person to keep his word and it's not like he asked to trade bodies with her.

Petra settles down next to him to observe the rising sun. "So this is real?" she asks. "You're really me sometimes and I'm really you?"

"Yeah," he replies.

She grasps at a memory, but she can't really remember of it's his or hers. Is it his memory of it's her in his body? She remembers someone telling her… "Your family mentioned that this was normal for members in your bloodline, switching bodies with someone. Is it just random all the time? Or do you get to choose."

"Hm." He doesn't say anything else, so she thinks that maybe he doesn't know or else he doesn't want to tell her. Still, these things seem so confusing so perhaps it's the former.

It's such a strange thing to be connected in someone this way. To see him only in his dreams and to wear his skin. There is this feeling of intimacy, to be able to use his very same hands and hear his voice in her words. She wonders if he feels the same way. How does he feel about wearing her shoes, walking the same steps she takes to school, and seeing her face in the mirror in place of his?

"Er…," she says, unsure of how to ask him. It's only beginning to occur to him how awkward it must be for him to be in a girl's body. She doesn't even want to think about it, but she can already feel the color rise to her cheeks.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Nothing," Petra replies hastily. She tries to think of something else to talk about. "I just…we should keep track of this, shouldn't we?"

* * *

That morning she wakes and dreads it because she knows she'll likely get to school and be told of something else she did that was out of character. As she walks past her dresser to get ready for the morning, she notices a note stuck to her mirror. Not remembering putting it there herself, she walks over curiously and peels off the note.

The handwriting on it is unfamiliar to her. It's small and neat. Only two words are scrawled on the little post-it: "Check notebook."

Looking down at the dresser, Petra sees one of her unused notebooks placed where she hadn't left it before. A pen is set neatly next to it. Gingerly, she opens it up to its first page and is surprised that the next few pages are filled. There's yesterday's date written on the top followed by a long list.

She'll probably be late if she reads the whole thing, but she thinks it might contain answers. Maybe she can finally figure out what's been happening.

 _Petra Ral_ , it says. _You said this was the best way to keep track of what was happening when we were in each other's bodies. Here's a list of everything I did while I was you._

It's surprisingly thorough, even timing how long it took to eat meals and what was eaten. She thinks that most people should be afraid in this situation. She's been having moments where she can't remember what she's done and now to have a stranger claim to be her through notes should be frightening, but she finds something oddly reassuring about the notes. They're very detailed, so clearly this person is either a good liar or a person who cares about the situation as much as she does.

Petra traces the name signed at the end of the note, committing it to memory so she never forgets.

That day she doesn't even blink when her friends ask her about why she ditched class yesterday, only smiles and tells them that she wasn't herself.

* * *

"It's so strange to live as you," Petra tells him as they watch the dawn together. They've gotten closer after all this time and she wonders how many sunrises they've watched in dreams just like this. "Do you think it's very different living as me? Living in the city, I mean. It's so much quieter in the countryside where your family is."

"Do you hate it?" he asks. She notices that he doesn't like answering questions about himself. At first she thinks it's because he hates her, but she's starting to think that it's because he dislikes talking about himself. He seems to enjoy talking to her enough to hold a conversation and that's enough to make her happy.

"No, I don't," she says truthfully. She used to think that switching bodies and strange dreams were troublesome, but she doesn't think that anymore. She can't imagine being without them. "What about you?"

"It's fine," he says, lying down on the hill and closing his eyes. There's a serene expression on his face and she can't help thinking that it looks so beautiful.

* * *

"It looks like you're getting used to switching bodies with him," the strange girl Petra had met the first time says. She's learned that the girl's name is Mikasa and that she's the boy's cousin. "I'm very impressed. I thought it would take you longer."

"Well, we're borrowing each other's bodies, so we should help each other out," Petra says cheerfully. She's gotten used to hearing the deep voice come from his – well, her – mouth and the face has become more familiar to her. "This happens to all of the family members then? It will happen to you too?"

"Yeah," Mikasa says. She sits down across from Petra and watches as the girl writes lengthy notes about everything she had done that day. "It happens to all of us."

"Are you excited then?" Petra asks. She scribbles the details of the day in the notebook for the boy to look at tomorrow. "It seems like you all know what to expect from it. Whenever I talk to any of you about it, you guys act like you know everything. You're not frightened about who winds up with your body or whose body you wind up with?"

Mikasa shrugs. She's a lot like her cousin that way. "It's not like it lasts forever. It's only for a year or so. Then it stops altogether."

Her pen stops moving. "It stops?" Petra asks. She should be thrilled to hear that, but the news only makes her feel cold inside. "He never told me that."

Again, Mikasa shrugs. "I guess he didn't think it was important."

* * *

It's difficult to describe how she feels right now. It's something like betrayal, but were they ever really friends in the first place? Perhaps they were just two strangers thrust into an unwanted circumstance. It's not as if he owes her anything, but she can't help but feel hurt every time she looks at him.

She curls up her legs under her chin and picks at the grass, plucking out blades one by one. There is this unbearable silence between them and what makes it the most painful is that she doesn't know if it hurts for him too. Unable to stand it any longer, she finally asks, "How come you didn't tell me that it would come to an end?"

He doesn't answer the question, instead saying, "You don't sound very thrilled."

For some reason this response is like a dagger to her chest and she asks, "Why should I be?" Her tone is sharp, meant to cut him, but he doesn't even flinch.

"Because it's bothersome to be switching bodies all the time and taking notes for each other," he responds easily. "If this stops, we get to live our lives like normal people."

She wants to be angry. She wants to be furious at this stranger who finds her troublesome. It would be better than crying in front of someone who doesn't want to know her, but her lip quivers when she speaks. "And when this stops, we'll just forget everything? It will just fade away like a dream?"

"Yes." The indifference in his voice is what hurts her the most.

* * *

A cruel reminder of the time they have left is written in the next few pages of her notebook.

The words in his handwriting makes her feel like crying, but she feels as if she's cried all night even though her pillow is dry from tears.

She's done accepting her situation, just simply living through it obliviously. No, this time she'll do something about it to preserve it. She doesn't care if the boy in her dream cares nothing for their bond. She'll preserve it even if he won't.

Petra spends the next days studying accounts of body swapping. She didn't think fingers could be injured from turning pages so often, but she has so many paper cuts from flipping through books so frequently. Her eyes hurt every time she wakes up in the morning no matter which person she wakes up as. Her friends tease her for being so interested in something so silly and fantastical, but she ignores them.

And yet while she searches for the answer – any answer - rigorously, there is none to be found and each night she collapses on her bed with the feeling that she'll be alone soon.

* * *

She finally gives up and goes back to living life the way she did before, but it feels different. Her daily actions are monotone and mechanical. Petra begins to wonder if she should skip school. It seems that the boy does it regularly in his own life and nobody would bat an eyelash if she did so as well thanks to him.

"Are you really that troubled at the thought of being severed from him?" Mikasa asks Petra, breaking her train of thought.

She knows better than to discuss her feelings with her. Soon she'll never see her again. Besides, she might be as uncaring as her cousin, but the fact that she's asking makes her seem almost…concerned about her and she's been longing to talk to someone about it.

"It's just that…I don't understand how you could have such a connection with someone and then not care at all that it will disappear someday," Petra says hesitantly. She reaches up to twirl a lock of her hair between her fingers, a nervous habit she has, but forgets that her hair is short right now and all she does is reach for air. "He doesn't seem to care at all. He's not even trying to stop it from disappearing…"

Mikasa is silent for a moment before she responds. "I don't think it's that he's uncaring. It's just that our family has been through this before. We've all tried to preserve the connection, but it never works out. He's seen the pain it's caused his relatives from before. He keeps his distance because he knows it can't last."

Petra frowns. "But he's written notes to me. If he didn't want to get involved, he wouldn't have done something like that, would he?"

"That was your idea, wasn't it?" Mikasa says. She looks at the notebook that Petra had been writing in all this time. "He never would have done that if you hadn't suggested it in the first place, but you've roped him in. Don't think that this isn't painful for him. He let you come close knowing that you'd disappear from him forever. At least for you it won't be as painful because you'll forget everything, but he'll know that he's met you and it will leave a void in him that will always be empty."

Petra furrows her brow. "What do you mean he'll know he's met me? How is that any different from anyone else?"

Mikasa pauses to think about whether she should reveal more about it or just keep her in the dark. She must think that it would be better for Petra to know everything because she says, "There are these threads that connect everyone. It's like that legend about the red string of fate." Mikasa holds out her hands and spreads her fingers. Petra can almost see the threads tied to each of her digits, stretching to people in her past, present, and future. "Us Ackerman are lucky enough to connect with that fated someone in the same way you've connected with my cousin, but that bond is always severed. It's more like a curse that way because you get so close to someone before you're torn apart."

She's beginning to understand why he's hidden all of this from her. Just hearing about it is making her heart ache, but she knows he'll be the one who's broken in the end. She'll be the fortunate fool, lucky enough to forget everything while he is left to remember.

* * *

She regrets not speaking with him all those times they've met at twilight. She was stubborn and stupid, angry at him for allowing this to happen. But now…

"I understand," she tells him, "why you didn't want me to know. Mikasa told me everything."

He looks at her, a pain in his eye, and it hurts to think that soon she won't be able to see that face anymore – neither in the mirror or in her dreams.

"But I want you to know that I don't regret any of this. Even if I forget, I don't care because at least I got to know you. Even if I won't remember, at least I was lucky enough to know you." She didn't want it to be too sentimental, but she's already tearing up. She brings her hands to her face so he won't see her tears fall, but she can't hide the way her voice is shaking. "But still…I don't want to forget you."

She's surprised when he stands up and places a gentle hand on her head. It's the first time she's seen him with such a soft expression on his face and she should be happy, but his sad smile makes her chest feel so heavy.

"I'll find you," he tells her. He places both hands on either side of her face and tilts her head so he can look at her. "After this is over, I'll be the one to find you even if you forget, so just remember my name."

"I will. I promise," she says, and she closes her eyes as he leans in to whisper his name in her ear the same way he did in that very first dream.

 _Ackerman_ , he tells her. _Levi Ackerman._

* * *

That morning she wakes up with the vague memory of a boy with dark hair and gray eyes, but he's quickly fading. Petra scrambles out of bed, muttering his name over and over but the words don't sound right and she feels that she's getting it wrong. It's only after a few seconds that she realizes that it's already disappearing from her mind.

 _The notebook_. The notebook on her dresser should have his name written over and over in his handwriting. Proof that he existed, that they existed, and that this whole thing isn't a dream, but ink fades as soon as she opens the pages and the sunlight hits it. All that's left are empty pages and a void at the bottom of her heart.

Tears leak from her eyes, drip down her cheeks, but she doesn't know why she's crying.

* * *

Sometimes she turns her head whenever she sees a man with dark hair pass her by. She doesn't know why. All she knows is that she's been doing this for years now and each time she's disappointed when she doesn't find what she's looking for. Her friends have teased her about it and she laughs along with them, but she feels an ache inside her. There was a time where she believed she would but now she's beginning to believe it less and less.

Still, it's the reason why she drags her friends out to the countryside every month to go camping. There's something familiar about the grassy hills and open sky, but she can't put her finger on it. While it doesn't fill the emptiness inside of her, being there is comforting to her for some strange reason. And she never misses the sunrise. Her friends grumble when she wakes them early to watch the sun kiss the earth goodbye before rising into the sky, but the sight of it is so exhilarating that she knows they don't regret waking.

Usually she sets a timer, but this night she's restless. It's like she's waiting for something, but she doesn't know what. She keeps checking her phone and her watch for the time. The minutes tick by too slowly. She should fall asleep, let the alarm on her phone wake her, but she's too restless. It doesn't matter anyway. If she doesn't leave now, she's going to be too late, she thinks as she leaves her friends behind and begins to walk. Too late for what?

She hardly knows where's she going now, just that her legs are carrying her where she needs her go. Soon she'll be in the place where she needs to be and find what she's been looking for all this time.

In the end she finds herself stopped at the top of a hill. Beyond the hill, the horizon stretches before her, its edges lined with gold. She knows that if she waits a while the gold will rise into the sky, a burst of colors blooming around it as it rises, but none of that interests her now. The only thing she sees is the stranger standing across from her like he as if waiting for her this whole time.

She's seen this scene before although she doesn't know where. She recognizes the man who stands before him – she knows his face, his hair, his stance – but she swears she's never seen him before. And yet she sees that when he turns around, he recognizes her too.

This is the part where she runs to him, leaps into his arms and tells him that he's what she's been searching for her entire life, but the sight of him makes her fall to her knees. It's strange because she wants to speak with him and tell him how lonely it was before she met him, but the tears won't stop falling. She's sure that he's run away by now, frightened by this stranger acting in such a bizarre way, but when she looks up he's right there.

"Haven't we met before?" he asks gently, holding her face in his hands. His thumb strokes her cheek, wiping away her tears. "I've had this feeling that I've been waiting for you all this time. And you've finally come."

"I was thinking the same thing," she says, smiling through her tears. "But I can't seem to remember your name."

"Then let me tell you," he says, and he leans in towards her in a way that she feels he's done so many times before.

She closes her eyes as he whispers his name in her ear, committing it to memory, and she savors the sound of his name coming from her lips as she whispers it over and over again.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Wah, I can't believe I forgot to edit it before posting it. Sorry if it was confusing before adding the line breaks ^^" I was just so sleepy yesterday and happy I proofread it that I thought I was all done, I suppose. Anyway, thanks for reading and let me know if you'd like me to write anything else although it will take me a while since I have a few backed up on tumblr, ereani week prompts, and school :'D Extra special thanks to loneghost13 for requesting an amazing prompt. I hope I delivered ^^_

 **Word Count:** _5464_


	6. Gentle Kiss

**A/N:** _I have been rewatching Attack on Titan lately with my sister (who has never seen it before). It makes me really miss Petra a lot ^^"_

* * *

"Did you really have to bite yourself that hard?" He frowns at the teeth marks still visible on her hand, the skin broken. It's stopped bleeding though, so he begins to clean around it with a cloth and begins to treat it to prevent any chance of infection.

"Of course," Petra replies, wincing slightly when he dabs the damp cloth around her wound. "It's a symbol after all. Eren needs to know that we trust him and that he can trust us."

"Cut yourself with a blade next time then. It's cleaner," Levi tells her. He cuts the bandage and wraps it carefully around her hand. "Do you know how many germs are in your mouth?"

Petra watches as he dresses her wound. "You don't think he hates us, do you?" she asks, ignoring his question. There's a frown on her face and worry lines appear like they do when she's thinking too hard. "He's a soldier, but he's still just a child. To have all of us turn our blades on him…"

"I'm sure he's terrified of all of you," Levi answers. It's so difficult to tell if he's joking because of his expressionless face. "But that should all be fixed with this, right? That's what your symbol is for after all." He holds her hand in his and rubs a thumb gently over where her wound is. What a silly thing to hurt yourself over, but it's just like her to do something like this.

"Somehow, I feel that you're making fun of me," Petra sighs. "And here I thought perhaps you'd say something to make me feel better."

"Do you think I'm teasing you? That's unlike me. You know I don't have a sense of humor."

She smiles even as he says that. "How very rude of me to say something so absurd. Although," she murmurs as she watches him raise her hand to his lips, "what is more absurd is that you're so germophobic that you're more willing to bite my hand instead of yours. There's not really a point to it if Eren isn't here."

But instead of a bite, there is just a gentle kiss pressed upon her hand. The only thing that separates his lips from her skin is the bandage he had wrapped around her hand only moments ago.

"Don't be ridiculous," he says, smirking as he pulls away. "Even that would be too filthy for me."

* * *

 **A/N:** _I'll probably return to writing Rivetra in a few weeks. I want to work on EreAni Week though and finding time to write is a bit difficult ^^"_

 **DAlrinchan:** _Thank you! I'm happy you enjoyed reading the Kimi no Na wa AU so much ^-^ I'm sure I'll return to it at some point and maybe consider it for a multi-chaptered fic when I become more confident in my writing :'D_

 **Word Count:** _405_


	7. The Secret to Flying

**A/N:** _Someone wanted me to write a Greatest Showman AU ^^ I've never actually watched the movie though, heh. Hope this is nice regardless ^^_

* * *

He doesn't know how she manages to climb up to the bars every day and night to practice and then perform. Just the climb there has him winded and it's not even that long of a climb. He must be out of shape. But it'll be his last time there – in that particular place and in the circus in general. He just came to say goodbye even though he knows she'll probably hate him for it. It's strange because she's not one to hate very many things. The fact that he'll be one of them is…well, he doesn't want to think about that right now.

Levi watches as she swings across the ring effortlessly, not even frightened about falling in the least bit. She has the net set up like she usually does for practice, but he still can't imagine what it feels like to fall at that height even with a safety net. That's just another thing that separates them though.

She must see him. He wasn't exactly quiet as he clambered his way up the ladder to where she was, and he's the only person in the tent besides her. While it's spacious, it's not exactly difficult to notice if someone's there with you when the place is empty. She probably thought that he would leave if she ignored him long enough, but he's more stubborn than that.

"Petra," he says when he can't stand her not looking at him any further. His voice sounds so loud in this empty space. It's impossible for her to pretend that she doesn't hear him.

She finally turns to look at him, a feigned smile on her face. It lacks the warmth that it usually has, and it only makes him hate himself more. "I'm surprised to see you here," Petra says to him. She's breathing a little heavily from her training, but he's surprised she doesn't sound more winded. "What are you doing here?"

"Saying goodbye," he replies. He fiddles with a button on his shirt. How funny that he is doing such a thing. He's never been so nervous as to play with imaginary threads on his clothing, so why is he doing so now? It's just a simple goodbye to a friend. There really isn't a need to feel such guilt over it. He's just being ridiculous.

"Is that it?" Petra asks. She's not exactly angry – at least not entirely – but he's confused as to why she looks so amused. When he only stares at her blankly, she gives him another half-hearted smile. "Well then, goodbye. Thank you for stopping by."

This isn't what he expected. It's not what he wants either, although he can't say for certain what he really wanted in saying goodbye to her. Not tears. That would be too selfish of him to ask from her, but he was perhaps hoping that she'd be a little distraught at his leaving. It should be a good thing that she's already accepted it, but he can't help feeling a little annoyed.

But what annoys him the most is her back turned to him, so he grabs her by the wrist without thinking because he cannot bear to think that her retreating figure will be the last image he'll ever have of her.

"Is that…is that all you're going to say to me?" he asks her. He realizes how childish and bitter his tone is, but it's too late. He's already revealed himself and he can't hide it away from her.

She glances at his hand gripped around her wrist, but she doesn't pull herself away. "What else is there to say? If you've made a decision, who am I to tell you to stay?" she asks. It's so strange to see her so indifferent when usually she's so passionate and caring, sometimes forcing her way into his personal affairs even if he doesn't want it. Is this really the same person?

"It's not as if I want to go," he mumbles, angry for saying something so soft and sentimental at a moment where she doesn't even care. "This just isn't the place for me. I don't belong here."

It's only then that she looks him, really looks at him, and her expression is no longer unfathomable. She's angry for some strange reason, but at least it's not her indifference.

"Did you decide that on your own or did someone tell you that?" she asks, pulling her wrist away from him. She frowns at him as if he had personally offended her although he doesn't understand how she could be so hurt about what he said. It's not as if it concerns her anyway. "What makes you think there isn't a place for you here?"

"Because I'm not like any of you," he mumbles. He feels a fool now, but he knows she won't let it drop until he gives her a proper reply. "I can't be a part of…all of this."

It's only then that her gaze softens. Petra lets go of the rope she was holding onto, letting it unwind around her arm and fall onto the floor behind her, and reaches to brush his check with a gentle hand. "Have you been alone so long that you can't imagine yourself happy with others?" she whispers. "This happiness is not an illusion. It isn't forbidden to you, so why don't you take it?"

"Didn't I just say?" he says. "I'm not like you." He can't see something he wants and take it fearlessly when he knows there's a risk of having it taken away from him. If that means he has to be alone forever, he can be content with that.

To his surprise, she smiles at him like one would smile at a child. Silently she takes him by the hand and leads him to the edge of the platform. She stands with her toes hanging over the edge, but he remains behind her, not brave enough to venture so far where a fall is so much more likely.

"Then before you go, let me teach you the secret to flying," she tells him. Again, she takes the rope she had previously discarded and wraps it around her wrist the way he's seen her do so many times in practice and in shows.

He's often heard the other circus performers joke that what Petra does is a fancy way of falling. Perhaps so, but she always makes it look like flying. There's a reason why the crowd is silent as she performs, watching her glide across the circus tent as if she was always meant to spin and twirl in the air instead of living with her feet on the ground like most other people are.

And although he would like to watch her one last time before he goes, he finds himself saying, "I should go." If he stays any longer, he'll never be able to leave.

"You should go, or you want to go?" she asks him. The rope is still wound around her arm and she's teetering on the edge of the platform looking as if she could leap off at any moment.

He should go, but he doesn't want to go. He doesn't know which one he should say, so he remains silent.

She must take his silence as a desire for her to continue speaking – and she's not wrong in making that assumption. "When you're flying in the air, you need to make a decision. Are you going to remain where you are, or are you going to fly?" Petra lifts herself on and off the very edge of the platform, pushing herself off and then falling back into place. It's just a simple movement, but she makes it look so graceful. "And once you leap into the air, you can't change your mind midway. You can hang onto the rope for safety, but you'll dangle in the middle of nowhere. You need to decide where you're going and stick to it – then you'll be at the place where you want to be."

He looks at her warily. She's been doing this almost her entire life, so she can say such things so easily. How can she expect him to live like her? "Is it really so bad staying on the ground where you're most comfortable?" he asks.

"People don't come here to watch me with my feet on the ground," she laughs. She stops teetering off the edge and sits on the platform, patting the space next to her so he'll sit beside her. "And if I did that, I'd never know how exhilarating it is to fly. If you really want something, you have to reach for it even if it scares you. So when I perform, I look for the place I want to go and I take myself there. All the flips and twists are something a little extra."

He sits beside her, letting his legs finally dangle off the side just like hers do. He probably won't fall unless he leans forward, but there's still that danger. It's a little thrilling, he has to admit. Petra will probably call him a wimp if he admits this to her.

"What happens if I reach for it," he asks, "and I end up falling?"

"Silly," she smiles. She reaches for his face, thumb caressing his cheek lightly. "Then I'll catch you."

His heart beats faster and he wonders if her heart beats this quickly when she jumps and flips into the sky. It must be something like this, right? Being so entranced by something you need to reach for it, he thinks as he leans in closer to her. If you want something, you should take hold of it before it escapes. He thinks he's beginning to understand, so he closes his eyes, waiting for their lips to meet, but when he opens his eyes she's gone.

He searches for her and only finds her when she laughs, the sound of her amusement echoing across the empty circus tent. She's swinging so easily across the wide-open space, unafraid of the drop beneath her, dangling from the ceiling from only a rope. She doesn't think of the terrible things that could happen. She's only thinking about gliding through the air, the feel of the wind as it brushes through her hair, and he can see on her face that she's happy.

She's flying.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thanks for reading everything so far! Makes it really nice to know that people appreciate my writing :) Also especially nice to know that love for this ship is still around! I just finished (re)watching AoT s1 with my younger sis (who has never watched it before) and she really ships Rivetra too! She bawled during ep 22 lol._

 **Word Count:** _1736_


	8. Witch

**A/N:** _Someone on Tumblr asked me to write a historical AU so I chose to do something loosely based on the Salem Witch Trials lol one of my favorite historical events to read about! (Even if it's a bit morbid and strange...) This is just the first part. Recently someone asked me to write a continuation for it so it's up on Tumblr right now. I'll add the second part on here tomorrow :)_

* * *

They said drowning wouldn't hurt her. It wouldn't hurt her if she was a witch. And she could insist that she's no such thing as much as she wants, but they'll never believe her until they pull her body from the lake. As they throw her in, tied up and gagged and helpless, she thinks that burning her would have been more painful but at least it would have been faster. She tries to keep her eyes open, but the salt of the lake stings her eyes. She holds her breath for as long as she can, but her lungs scream for air. Against her will, her mouth opens but water fills her lungs instead of the air she desperately needs. It's cold and heavy, weighing her down and making it difficult to move. The more she struggles to get out of the ropes, the more she feels herself growing tired. The more her body hurts. The more she wants it to stop.

Can she stop now? Her limbs feel heavy and her lungs hurt too much. If she stopped for a moment, what would happen next? It would be like sleep, wouldn't it? That's what it feels like as her eyes begin to close. But she doesn't think they'll open again.

* * *

When she wakes up she sits up immediately, gasping for air. Her lungs ache, but they're not filled with fluid. She blinks to try to make out where she is now, but she has no idea where she is. She's in a stranger's house, but a house she doesn't recognize. She thinks maybe she had dreamt everything from before up, that she hadn't been left to drown, but she touches her hair and it's still damp with water. The smell of the lake still clings to her too, making her feel nauseous. Petra takes the blanket that had been draped on her and wraps it around her like a shawl, getting up to find whoever had dragged her out of the lake and taken her here.

She only takes a few steps when a man emerges from the doorway just along the hallway. The house feels so large and empty that she has a feeling he's the only one here. He's most likely her rescuer, but he has a prominent frown on his face that makes him look unfriendly. Petra can only stand there and stare back at him.

"You're dripping on the floor," he tells her. He looks only to be a little bit taller than she is, but his voice is cold and hard.

Petra shuffles in her spot nervously, sure she should flee but not knowing where she would go if she did. "I…who are you?" she asks.

The man doesn't seem at all concerned that she's scared and confused. His frown only deepens when he sees that she hasn't moved, and he clicks his tongue. "Tch. The floor. You're getting it wet," he tells her again. He points at the couch that she had risen from. "Sit there near the fire. You'll dry faster."

He doesn't say anything else to her – no hint as to where she is, why she's here, or who he is – but she doesn't really want to see what he's like when he's angry, so she nervously finds her way back to her place on the couch.

Petra opens her mouth to ask the man his name, but he speaks first.

"Do you want tea?" he asks. He heads off to what she assumes is the kitchen, not even waiting for her reply. She's sure that he's going to bring her a cup anyway until he pops his head back into the room, irritated that she hasn't responded. "You can speak, can't you? Do you want tea or not?"

"I, er, that would be nice, yes," she quickly mumbles. She's starting to doubt that he's the one who saved her. Maybe someone else did and they had to leave, leaving her in this man's care. Sure, he's fixing her a cup of tea, but he's being rather rude about it.

Petra shivers and pulls the blanket closer around her. She looks around the house to observe the type of person this man is, and she realizes that the place is spotless. It really doesn't seem as though someone lives here although it has to be so because there's furniture and the usual things inside the house. It's just so clean that she's sure there isn't a speck of dust anywhere. Is that why the man was so angry earlier that she was dripping water on the floor?

She leans forward to inspect the wooden table in front of her, noticing that there are no stains or scratches on it at all. It shines like it was just made yesterday. It might be because the man has very good servants to clean the place, but the house doesn't seem large enough to need other people to clean it all the time. Perhaps he's the one who does all of the cleaning around the house and just likes everything to be tidy all of the time? This is another level of cleanliness that she's never seen though.

"Are you smelling the table?" a voice asks.

Startled, Petra looks up to see the man holding a tray with a steaming teapot and matching tea cups. She's a little scared to look at his face, sure that she'll see him glowering at her again but is surprised that he's expressionless now.

"It's just…very clean," Petra says stupidly.

"Mmm." It's more of an acknowledgement of what she's said more than anything. She's not sure if he's unfriendly or if he's just a poor conversationist. The man pours out a cup for her and holds out the cup to her. "Drink."

She quickly takes the cup with both hands, drinking it a little too fast. The tea burns her throat as she swallows. She tries not to cough, praying that he doesn't see her wincing.

"Too hot?" he guesses, taking a slow slip of tea himself. She notices that he holds his cup in a curious manner, his fingers lightly touching the top of the cup instead of wrapping around the handle. "Why are you drinking it so quickly? You're not in a hurry, are you?"

"No, I'm just…I'm confused," she mumbles. "I don't know who you are or where I am. Or why I'm here."

"Do you remember what happened before you woke up?" he asks. His voice sounds different from before, softer this time, and she looks up to see that his steely gaze has softened now.

"I think I do," she tells the man. She frowns and looks down at the tea in her cup, trying to remember. Before she woke up here she was sleeping, wasn't she? And before she was sleeping…

She was drowning. She was dying. She was tied up, fighting to wriggle out of the ropes only to grow weary as the water poured into her lungs and weighed her down. She was opening her mouth to cry out only to have water spill into her. And all above the surface people watched, chanting the words "Witch! Witch! Witch!"

She doesn't realize that she's gasping for breath until a hand lays itself gently on her shoulder and she remembers that she's not there in the lake anymore.

"You're here now," the man says. He removes his hand from her shoulder, but she wishes he hadn't. It feels lonelier without it.

Her breathing is still heavy, but she takes a moment to steady it. "Did you…save me?" she asks him.

He takes so long to reply that she's afraid he hadn't heard her. "I dislike seeing people die for no reason," he finally tells her. He takes a pause to take another sip of his tea, long and slow, before he speaks again. "I'm Levi."

"Levi," she repeats, feeling the name on her tongue. She feels silly when she remembers that he's sitting just across from her, watching her as she says his name aloud for no particular reason. "I'm Petra. Petra Ral."

"Hmm." He's doing that thing again where he's not saying anything, just indicating that he's heard her but not letting the conversation any further. She's starting to think that maybe he's just awkward and not entirely unfriendly. He can't possibly be unfriendly, not if he's the one who saved her.

Petra feels the tips of her hair, twirling the wet strands in between her fingers. "Thank you," she says quietly. "But what do I do now?"

He doesn't even bother to acknowledge her thanks, instead skipping to her question. "What do you mean?" he asks. He doesn't seem particularly concerned. "You can stay here. You can leave. I don't care what you do."

She ignores the bluntness of his response. "Stay here? With you?"

Levi shrugs. "Although if you're no good at cleaning, I don't really have a use for you," he tells her. "But going back doesn't seem like an option for you."

"And you wouldn't mind me staying here?" she asks. "You're not scared?"

"Unless you make a mess," he says. He lifts an eyebrow. "But why would I be scared of someone like you?"

It's only now that she feels silly for even thinking he'd be frightened of her. If he were scared, he wouldn't have saved her in the first place. "The others were scared…because they thought I was a witch," Petra says. She looks up nervously at him, wondering how he'll respond.

There's a flash in his eyes, lighting up in a way they haven't until this moment. She thinks that at first that he's angry, maybe mad that an entire village would try to drown an innocent girl, but there's something strange about the light in his eyes. It's as if it's not entirely human.

"Killing everyone they find and saying they're hunting witches," Levi scoffs. "They haven't seen real magic. Not yet."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you guys for reading and reviewing everything so far! I really appreciate it a lot ^^_


	9. Nightmares

**A/N:** _Sorry I didn't post this right away like I said! Thank you for the kind words and support though! I will be gone for a few weeks to take care of some school things in the meantime :)_

 **Prompt:** _Witch AU - Part 2_

* * *

If he hadn't heard her speak the first time, he would think that she's mute. He had asked her before if she was shy, but she squeaked out an unconvincing "no" for an answer. In all of time she's been here, he's sure that she hasn't uttered more than three words at a time. He's fine with that though. It's not like he's extremely talkative himself. When you live alone for so long, the silence is something you get used to.

He's thought about sending her to someone else, someone who could better rehabilitate her, but the one time he mentioned a friend coming over, she looked at him with such wide-eyed horror that he couldn't see it going well. Maybe it's for the best. Mike can be somewhat of a strange man and Hanji isn't the best person to have around if you're faint-hearted to begin with. She seems content with staying inside all day and helping him with household chores in the meantime, but it seems a waste to have someone like her become a hermit for the rest of her life.

"You must really like cleaning," he says to her one night as they're washing the dishes. He actually doesn't care if she helps him clean up the house or not, but he has to admit that she does a thorough job in whatever she does. It saves a lot of time having two people work around the house too.

"Yes," she murmurs. As expected, she says nothing more, just keeps her head down as she takes the dishes she hands her and wipes them dry before stacking them on the counter to put away later.

He's noticed this before, but there are bags under her eyes. They've been there since she's arrived here, but it seems they've become even more prominent. Sleeping in a stranger's house must be terrifying for her, especially after everything she's been through, but he hopes she hasn't been avoiding sleep entirely.

"Are you sleeping alright?" he asks her after handing her the last plate to dry.

"I'm fine," she mumbles, still not looking at him. She makes sure that their fingers don't touch when she takes the plate from him. She's careful as she wipes down the plate, her movements slow and cautious. A ginger lock from behind her ear falls, obscuring her face and preventing him from reading her expression properly.

That's fine. It's not like it's any of his business anyway.

"You can get some sleep after this," he says. Levi dries his hand on the towel hanging from the cabinet handle. "I can take care of the rest by myself."

Normally she would insist to help in her own quiet way, but she must be tired because she simply says, "Thank you," before returning to put the plates back in their proper cabinets.

She folds the drying towel slowly, making sure each fold is precise and neat. He thinks that she's gotten more relaxed now, but he's beginning to realize now that her movements are slow and sluggish, not relaxed. She's not being careful or cautious; she's just exhausted.

He should warn her to sit down at least, tell her he can take care of things while she rests for a minute even if it means closing her eyes for just a second, but it's too late.

The plates slip from her hands, shattering on the floor. The girl stares at the broken dishes in shock. It seems that she's frozen there until she realizes that this isn't her home, these plates belong to someone else, and suddenly she's as terrified as the night he saved her.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispers, her voice broken like the shattered dishes. She's already kneeling down to pick up the broken shards with her hands, perhaps too scared to even realize what she's doing.

"Are you stupid?" Levi snaps, quickly grabbing onto her wrist before she cuts herself. Thankfully she's not bleeding, but she looks at him with such a terrified expression that he realizes that he must be scaring her after yelling at her and grabbing her so roughly. Letting go, he mutters, "Don't be so reckless. You can get hurt."

"I'm sorry," the girl says again, her lip quivering. She holds onto her wrist where he had gripped her so forcefully. "I should have been more careful."

He sighs and stands up, looking warily at the girl still kneeling on the floor. "They're just plates," he says. "I can always replace those. But you need to take care of yourself. People aren't things that can be replaced."

The girl stands up, her head hanging so she's looking at the floor. "Yes. I'm…," she begins, but she changes her mind. She's rubbing her wrist and it makes Levi wonder if he had grabbed her too hard back then. "Thank you for worrying about me."

"I'll clean this up, so don't worry about it. You should sleep though," he says. He's already turned to get the broom and dustpan, but he notices that she's still standing in the same spot. Did she not hear him? He walks towards her, getting ready to repeat himself, but sees that tears are dripping down her cheeks.

It's times like these where he thinks someone like Hanji or Mike would be more useful to her. He's never been good with emotions – neither his nor the emotions of others – and he's at a loss at what to do now. Perhaps he should hold her but that seems strange, so he can only stand and gawk.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I can't…I can't sleep," the girl whispers shakily. Her hands cover her eyes, but the tears spill over anyway. "If I close my eyes…I can't breathe. And the water…it's everywhere and it fills my lungs and it hurts. It hurts so much I can't move. And everyone's just watching as I drown. When I reach for them…they just stand there…they look so cruel…" She clutches at her chest, her breathing heavy as if she's searching for air but it's not reaching her. She's sobbing so heavily now that she shakes with every breath.

"Petra," he says. It's the first time he's ever really called her name, but she doesn't hear it. She's lost in her nightmare, the one she's been trying to avoid, the one she had only narrowly escaped a week before. So he lifts her head with a gentle hand, calling her back to reality. "You're not there anymore. You're here. They're gone now."

There is something familiar about this, he thinks as she clings to him desperately like he's the only thing to keep him from drowning in her darkest memories. He strokes her hair, thinking that it's so soft and wondering why this feels like something that's happened to him before. He tries to recall this scene that feels so familiar to him, but he can't find it anywhere in his memories.

"Take a rest in your room while I clean this up," he tells her. "I'll be there in a minute."

The girl swallows, but nods. She leaves soundlessly, her footsteps hardly making any noise at all. A quiet girl, but he's sure she was full of life before he met her. Humans always have a way of ruining beautiful things.

He comes to her room a few minutes later and finds her sitting upright in her bed waiting for him. While she's not crying anymore, her eyes are still red and swollen.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks. He puts down a tray on the nightstand next to her bed and pulls out a chair from nearby to sit down beside her.

"Yes," she replies quietly. She stares at her hands which are folded in her lap. "You're very kind."

He would scoff, but he's sure she wouldn't understand. How can she think he's so kind even though she's only known him for a few days? She's too naïve, but he'll let her think that anyway. She's been through too much cruelty, so maybe it's okay to let her believe there is kindness in the world.

Levi pours her a cup of tea from the tray he had brought in earlier. The scent of it is strong and earthy, a different fragrance from the typical light and herbal teas he drinks from. He takes a deep breath, breathing in its aroma, before holding it out to her. "Drink this."

Hesitantly, Petra takes the cup from him and stares down at its contents. The golden-brown liquid swirled mysteriously in the cup. "What is this?" she asks.

"It's supposed to help you sleep," he replies. "My mother used to make it for me when I was a child." He hasn't made it very often lately. He's never been fond of sleeping; he prefers to stay awake. He feels, though, that this is something she needs right now.

"Your mother," she echoes, tracing a finger around the rim of the cup, but the cup remains in her lap. She looks at him, looking as if she wants to ask him something but she thinks better of it.

"Go on," Levi says, nodding at the cup she's holding. "Drink it."

Her lip quivers, the fear returning in her eyes. "But if I go to sleep…will I be alright?" she whispers.

"You'll be fine," he says to her. "You trust me, don't you? And if it looks like you're having a nightmare, I'll wake you up. I'll be right here."

She doesn't respond at first but she finally nods, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a drink. When she sets the cup down, there isn't a drop left. She lowers herself down so she rests properly on the bed, ready to finally rest. "You'll be here the entire time?" she asks.

"Yes."

Petra takes a deep breath before closing her eyes, but she falls asleep quickly. Her face is the most tranquil that he's seen it since she's arrived and there's something comforting about knowing she can find peace after everything she's been through. No one should ever have to go through that.

He doesn't remember when he fell asleep, but he must have. When he opens his eyes, he's no longer in her room. He's surrounded by fire, completely trapped by it with nowhere to run. When he tries to move, he finds that he's tied down with rope and can only stand there hopelessly as he burns. He's a child again, searching for his mother who will never come because she's met her own tragic end. He knows this, yet he calls for her anyway, his throat burning from inhaling smoke.

People watch him burn away, the flame licking at his heels as he screams in pain, but they don't even lift a finger. Monster, they called him, witch's son, but they're the real monsters. How can anyone be so heartless as to just stand there and watch a helpless boy die? But they don't care. All they know is that he's different and anything strange is dangerous to them, so they can be as cruel as they want just as long as they get rid of him in doing so.

"Mother," he chokes, "Mother! Mother!" But the smoke is too thick, burning an ominous black, and he can hardly see anything now. He just hopes that she can hear him, perhaps meet him on the other side because this world is too cold and cruel for him to exist.

But a hand reaches out, gently lifting his face and brushing the hair from his eyes. His mother, he thinks, but he's wrong.

When he opens his eyes, he realizes that Petra's sitting up in bed, her hands cradling his face. Her brow is furrowed, confused and concerned, and he should be thankful that she's woken him from this nightmare, but being touched so unexpectedly startles him.

"What are you doing?" he growls, swatting her hands away without thinking. He regrets it immediately when he sees her hurt expression. "I didn't mean to say that so rudely…I'm sorry."

She nods, looking away from him again. Petra wraps her arms around herself as if to make herself smaller. "I didn't mean to wake you…but you looked like you were having a bad dream. You…you were crying."

"Was I?" he asks surprised. He touches his face and is surprised when he feels the tips of his fingers are wet. That's so strange. He doesn't remember the last time he had cried. Frowning, he wipes away the tears from his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "I apologize. This is very unlike me. I'm sorry for making you worry."

Unexpectedly, Petra moves closer to him, seating herself on the edge of the bed. "I want to worry about you though," she says to him. He thinks this is the first time he's heard her speak without stumbling on her words or being hesitant. "Because you always worry about me even though you don't have to. Because you pulled me out of the water when you didn't have to, so something like this…it's the least I can do."

She's so earnest in her words that he can't help but smile. He should probably discourage her, tell her that they should part ways soon, so she can return to her world and he can remain in his lonely sphere, but he doesn't have the heart to do it. It couldn't hurt anyway, to care for each other in this little time they have, so he places a hand gently on her head, threading his fingers through her ginger locks.

He's starting to remember what this reminds him of – this warmth and sweetness. It's something that he had lost long ago, something he thought he would never get back. Who would have ever thought that she would be the one to bring it back?

"Thank you," he tells her. "I'm grateful."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you again for the support! It's very encouraging and it helps to know what sort of stories you like to read as well when I write future AUs/stories ^^_

 **Word Count:** _2326_


	10. Don't Blink

**A/N:** _Someone asked me to write a Rivetra fic in any AU I wanted and I really liked Christopher Nolan's The Prestige, so I ended up with a magician AU :) It's been on Tumblr for a while but I don't have the chance to write new Rivetra any time soon ^^"_

* * *

He's largely unimpressed with the program. It's the standard sleight of hand, blink-and-you'll-miss-it tricks. Her illusions are flashy, but a novice could do them if they practiced enough. She's taken basic routines and dressed them up to entrance the viewers, but he sits at the table with a frown on his face still trying to find out how she's managed to draw in so many fans.

Isabel looks entertained enough, admiring all the theatrics despite knowing most of the "magic" behind most of these tricks. Well, she's always been amazed even if she's the one who's pulling birds out of her coat and selecting the right card. "Stage magicians sure are different than street magicians, huh?" Isabel says. "D'you think we should take the stage instead? It seems pretty classy in here. I mean, we get dinner and stuff too!"

"It's the same shit we do. It's just dressed up with more smoke and mirrors." Farlan doesn't look very interested but then again, he's been ordering glass of wine after glass of wine instead of paying attention to what's happening on stage. Sometimes he glances at the set, taking in the extravagant set and the showy costumes that the magician and her assistants wear. "The girl's pretty though. In that way where you don't really want to take your eyes off her."

"People don't come to magic shows just to admire the performer's appearance," Levi growls. His eyes follow the little ginger magician as she crosses the stage.

Farlan's right though - she is pretty. While Levi had addressed that observation with scorn earlier, it's true that having a pretty face doesn't hurt when it comes to attracting attention of audience members. Everyone likes a pretty face, but he's sure his perpetual scowl isn't the reason for the large size difference in the crowds that came to their shows.

Petra, the enigmatic escape artist, blows a kiss to the crowd and the audience claps and calls out her name. "Thank you so much for coming tonight!" the magician says. She's out of her usual outfit, now wearing a large black coat over whatever new costume she's covered underneath. "Please enjoy my last act, where I'll be escaping from a water tank!"

Even Isabel oohs along with the rest of the crowd when the escape artist onstage sheds her coat to reveal a glittering one-piece swimsuit underneath. Chains and locks decorate her wrists and ankles, and the performer cheerfully lifts a hand to wave to the crowd.

"Maybe we should think about wearing costumes," Isabel suggests, her eyes glued to the stage where the assistants are helping the performer walk up the steps to the top of the tank where she'll be dropped. "I know you said it's the performance that matters in the end, but it wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"Tch."

Are her magic performances all that different from the shows they put up on the street? Perhaps it's the venue that gives stage performers such as Petra this air of grandeur while street performers seem more run-of-the-mill among other magicians. It certainly can't be the sequins and sparkles on all of her extravagant costumes, the charming smiles she flashes the crowd right before she finishes an act, or the way she looks right now, her ginger hair drifting behind her as she slips out of her chains one by one before finally emerging from the water tank.

"So cool!" Isabel says, immediately standing up to clap with the other audience members as Petra takes a gracious bow. She looks back at Farlan and Levi. "Right? Why aren't you clapping, Levi?"

He rolls his eyes, but maybe he shouldn't be surprised that Isabel's so easily impressed. Compared to him and Farlan, she's still fairly new to these things and sometimes even shocked herself when she gets a magic trick right.

"None of these tricks are new or innovative," Levi replies. "The water tank escape trick has been done long before she's taken the stage. All the other tricks she's done were variations of things we do too – sleight of hand, illusion, distracting the audience. It's hardly impressive."

Isabel nods slowly as if she understands, sitting back down as the applause softens so the audience can hear the performer's last words to close off the show. "Ah, I see," Isabel says, but her knitted brow says that she doesn't quite believe him.

"He's jealous," Farlan explains, taking a final sip from his glass before motioning to a waiter for a refill.

Surprised, Isabel begins to giggle but Levi can only splutter in confusion. "Me? Jealous? Of that dressed up, third-rate show?"

Farlan motions the waiter to stop and then takes another sip of wine. "Frown – usually typical for you but now it's even more prominent than it usually is. Stiff movements. And you were glaring at her the entire performance. Like a lot more than you usually glare at anyone." He taps the table and points at Isabel. "Hey, are you paying attention? You wanted to know how I do these things."

"Ooh," Isabel says, squinting her eyes and taking a closer look at Levi. "Levi, you do seem especially tense right now."

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Levi says to Farlan. He really hates mentalists, but Farlan's the least annoying one he knows, and people always seem to enjoy him revealing all their personal secrets and "reading their minds."

"It's been lovely performing for you tonight!" Petra says onstage, accompanied by her assistants. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, and thank you so much for coming!"

Levi rolls his eyes again when he sees her blowing another kiss, the audience members somehow finding the act charming because they cheer again for her and clap even as the curtains close around her. He clears his throat and pulls his coat on, looking impatiently at Farlan and Isabel so that they'll follow suit. "Well, I learned absolutely nothing from that," he grumbles.

"I thought it was nice," Isabel shrugs.

"Excuse me? Sorry, wait!" a man says, shoving through the crowd to get to their table.

Farlan waves his hand. "No more wine for me, thanks. I think I've had enough for tonight."

Isabel tugs on the sleeve of Farlan's coat and whispers, "That's not a waiter! That's one of the assistants from tonight. He did that trick where he could guess what was in everyone's pocket!"

"Ah, yes, that was me! I'm glad you remembered!" the man chuckles. He smooths out the wrinkles in his coat and offers a hand out to Farlan who's a little too drunk to notice it, so the man shoves his hand back into his pocket. "Er, you're Levi, Farlan, and Isabel? Petra said she would like to see you three after the show."

"Us?" Isabel's eyes widen and she looks immediately to Levi. "Levi, we can go, can't we? It's not like we're doing anything after this."

He's about to say no, but she lowers her bottom lip at him and it begins to wobble in that way that makes her look as if she's about to cry. Sighing deeply, Levi finally mutters, "Yeah, sure. Take us there then."

Isabel's busy talking to the man – he reintroduces himself as Gunter – and he discusses a few of the tricks with her, performing a few new ones he's testing out and listening intently as she tells him of the tricks she plans to perform the next time she puts on a show. Meanwhile, Farlan is strolling leisurely behind them while Levi glowers.

"It won't do you good to just glare at her when we meet," Farlan drawls. "Maybe you should have had a few more drinks. Could have put you in a better mood to meet the pretty lady."

"You're not helping," Levi growls.

His friend, used to this kind of treatment every now and again, simply shrugs and continues to stroll along beside him but this time in silence.

To Levi's absolute horror, Isabel squeals when they're backstage and Gunter motions for them to approach the young woman cleaning up backstage. "I can't believe it's really you!" Isabel squeaks as the woman turns around. "I never thought you'd want to speak to us!"

"Why wouldn't I?" Petra says, not at all put off by Isabel's excitement. She must be used to it from all her other fans and admirers. She looks over at where Farlan and Levi are standing and smiles brilliantly at them. "Farlan and Levi! You guys put on such wonderful shows. I'm a huge fan!"

Isabel's jaw nearly drops to the floor. "You're a fan of theirs too?"

"Of course!" Petra says cheerfully. Her hair's still a bit damp and she wears a fluffy white bathrobe over the swimsuit she hadn't had the chance to change out of yet. She offers a hand towards Levi to shake. "I'm Petra. It's an honor to finally meet you guys! I'm really happy you all were able to make it backstage."

When Levi ignores the hand, Farlan takes it instead. "The pleasure is all ours," he tells her, glancing a little disapprovingly at Levi. "You put on a very nice show tonight. Isabel was especially enchanted."

Petra beams. "I'm glad! My friends and I used to go to your shows a lot a few years ago before we started performing ourselves. Super awesome! That thing that you guys did when it was raining made it look like it was falling up? It took us a few months to wrap our heads around it after we saw it," she laughs. When she sees that Levi is looking at her with a glower, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "By the way, what did you think of tonight's show, Levi?"

His frown deepens, disliking how casually she's calling him by name even though they've only just met. "Amateur," he finally replies, much to Isabel's horror. He can even see Farlan glaring from the corner of his eyes, but it's not as if he cares. "There wasn't anything very special about it. A very standard performance that you would expect from any beginner."

Farlan's about to open his mouth to interject, but Petra laughs. It's not forced, but a genuinely amused laugh. "Is that so?" she asks. "Well, I didn't think you would be. You seem to be a part of the tough crowd. Perhaps I'll do better the next time you see me?"

Maybe he's thinking into it too much, but he doesn't like her tone or her assumption that he'll ever watch a show of hers again. He's about to tell her that he has no intention of going to another one of her performances, but Farlan quickly cuts in.

"He's just had a little too much to drink," Farlan lies. Both he and Isabel are tugging at Levi's sleeves, hoping to get him away before he says anything else offensive.

"Yes, and he was grumpy that we were so far in the back of the room," Isabel says, raising her voice to talk over Levi's protests. "We were talking about how beautiful all of your costumes were, Miss Petra. It's a shame we weren't able to see them all up close."

"Hmm," Petra smiles, still observing Levi. She looks rather entertained by his angry expression, making him even angrier. "Well, if you do decide to come next time, please give me a call and I'll be sure to provide you with the best seats in the house."

"Tch," Levi snorts. "As if your next show will give us anything different."

Even though Farlan and Isabel are groaning, embarrassed at not being able to escape before Levi could say something to really tick off their rival, Petra only raises an eyebrow. "You don't think so?" she asks. She smiles, but it's different than the one she flashes at the crowd. It's mischievous, one corner of her mouth raised slightly higher than the other. "But you'll never see my greatest trick if you don't come."

"And what would that be?"

She steps closer to him, placing two fingers on the collar of his shirt before tracing them down to his chest. It's only then that he thinks he understands why people find her so entrancing beyond the glittery outfits and overly cheerful persona. It's her eyes, he thinks, the burning intensity of her amber eyes as her lips curl upwards in that same mischievous smile she had given him earlier as she purrs, "I'll steal your heart," before pulling out a black heart carved from glass from the breast pocket of his coat. He knows she must have slipped it out of the sleeve of her robe and made it appear as though it had been in his coat all along, but right now he can't think of how she's managed to do it without him noticing. With her other hand, she opens his palm to drop the heart inside of it, closing his fingers over it. "But don't blink, or you'll miss it."

"Holy shit," Farlan whispers under his breath, but he's too drunk to lower his voice so that Petra can't hear. He loosens his tie with one hand and looks back and Levi who still hasn't moved.

Her regular smile has returned, and she's taken a few steps back. "I should get going now. I've probably taken enough of your time. It was very nice meeting all of you. Farlan, Isabel…Levi."

"What was that all about?" Isabel asks after Petra walks off. She looks curiously at Levi who still holds the heart in his hand. "Levi?"

It's only then that he realizes that he's been holding his breath. Coughing before he properly catches his breath, he snaps, "How the fuck would I know? She's no better than one of those performers who watches YouTube videos to learn tricks. Why would we go to see her again?"

"You seem pretty charmed," Farlan says. When Isabel looks at him, Farlan clears his throat. "Dilated pupils, holding your breath, and the back of your neck is starting to turn red."

"And you're still staring at the place where she was even though she's gone already," Isabel pipes up.

Knowing that they're right, Levi folds up the collar of his shirt to cover his neck and turns on his heel. "We're going home," he mutters.

Goddamn stage magicians.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you for reading and reviewing so far! Will consider writing more of the Witch AU (since I love supernatural/fantasy AUs) as well as more Kimi no Na wa even though that's technically done :)_

 **Word Count:** _2399_


	11. Parents

**A/N:** _A high school AU that I wrote a about a year ago (I think?)._

* * *

If she weren't so damn cute he'd be rolling his eyes at the sight of his girlfriend carrying around a pink stuffed bunny in baby's clothing. He supposes that taking care of stuffed animal is slightly better than taking care of, say, an egg or a sack of flour, but this is still pretty ridiculous. What would taking care of a stuffed animal teach anyone about economics? The only thing the stupid bunny did was sit there and look cute. Petra, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind this project at all and, to his horror, even seems to enjoy taking care of their fake baby. Even now she's cradling the bunny in her arms like it's a newborn babe, making sure to support its head, as she talks to him about her upcoming math exam. "I don't mind the actual math part," she says to him. "It's just that the scenarios are so ridiculous to me. I know I'm not going to be a rocket scientist. Why do I care what the average acceleration of a rocket is?"

"Because if you don't care and get a zero your dad would probably be disappointed in you," Levi answers. Truth be told, he didn't get along all that well with Mr. Ral but Petra adores her father so he might as well be civil. The two stop at Levi's locker and Levi begins to input his combination to the lock.

"You're right. He's always so happy whenever I come home with an A on my calculus exams," she sighs. She leans her back against the locker and shoots Levi a flirtatious smile. "Hey, do you want to help me study after school today?"

He stops swiveling his lock for a second and gives her a wary look. "At your house? You know your dad doesn't like me."

She scrunches her nose at him and rolls her eyes. "Only because he doesn't understand how you can look so unhappy all of the time when you're dating his adorable daughter." She pokes Levi's cheek playfully. "You should really smile more though. It looks nice when you do."

"I always look nice," Levi responds. His reply makes Petra snort. "Hey, turn around for a second." He snaps his lock open and unhooks it from his locker door.

"Ooh, do you have a surprise for me?" Petra asks, turning around and covering her eyes with a hand.

"More like a secret," Levi mutters. He quickly unzips his backpack, takes out a teddy bear, and then shoves it into his locker before slamming the door shut. "You can turn around now."

His girlfriend turns around and harrumphs when she sees him empty handed. "Hey, what gives?"

"I didn't say I had anything for you," Levi points out.

It's too late though because she's already annoyed. Before he can say anything else or put the lock back on his door, Petra shoves their bunny into his arms and pushes past him, opening the door of his locker. The sight must surprise her because she lets out an audible gasp.

There's a mountain of stuffed animals piled into Levi's locker. They're practically packed inside. He couldn't even remember how many were now in his possession. They just accumulated and had gotten out of hand before he realized the problem that would arise with stealing so many. He didn't know what to do with them so he just kept shoving more and more in his locker, hoping the baby project would soon be over so he could get rid of them.

"Did you _steal_ these?" Petra asks incredulously. She grabs their bunny from Levi and shields its eyes from the horror of children's plush toys stuffed into Levi's locker. "Levi, how many did you even take?"

"Er, I don't really know," Levi replies, hurriedly slamming the door to his locker shut before anyone else can see. He glances around but it seems that no one has noticed. "I just thought it would be easier to get a good grade if everyone else, um, had bad ones for losing their kid. And Shadis said you get extra credit if you could kidnap someone else's kid so, you know. I just did what I had to do."

"You can't just kidnap everyone's child! Imagine what kind of example this sets up for our baby." She shoves the pink plush bunny in his face and he reddens at the mention of "their" baby.

"Petra, that's not even a real baby. It's not imprinting on anything I do, good or bad," he hisses.

"Wow, it's like you don't even want to have kids with me," Petra says a little dejectedly. Their bunny dangles from one arm and Petra brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. "I know you think this project is stupid and everything but, I don't know, I thought it was a really nice way to spend time with you."

"What?" Levi splutters. "I don't – Stupid? I never said – and spending time with you – Petra, what are you talking about? Of course I want to have kids with you." The words leave his mouth before he realizes what he's saying. If a bolt of lightning struck him down right now he'd thank god or whoever the fuck is up there. He can't bear to look Petra in the face because he knows exactly what he'll find. Somehow, his eyes are drawn to her face anyway and, sure enough, she has a giddy grin spread across her face.

"I was just kidding but that was really cute," she giggles. "I'm going to have Mike babysit now but I'll talk to you later." She kisses him on the cheek before leaves, walking away with a little bit a skip in her step.

"Yeah, whatever," he mutters, trying to recover from his embarrassment.

"But you better give all of those stuffed animals back or I'm going to kick your butt!" she calls over her shoulder.

"Ah, young love," a familiar voice says. The speaker flings an arm around Levi's shoulder. Only one person would violate his personal space like that and he's not surprised to see Hanji's face when he turns to see who it is. They flash him a goofy grin when he scowls. "So what were you guys talking about? You look pretty flushed. Did you accidentally tell her you wanted to be with her forever and ever? I don't see why you're always so embarrassed about that. I mean, I wouldn't mind spending an eternity with that cutie."

"Shut up," Levi mutters. His response only manages to make Hanji snicker even more. He unlocks his locker, grabs a ratty-looking stuffed dog, and throws it at Hanji. "Here you go."

Hanji clumsily catches the dog and blinks. "Isn't this my baby from the baby project for Shadis' class? I thought you said Moblit lost it!"

"I lied." He stuffs a bunch of teddy bears and various other plushies into his bag, piling a small number onto his arm because his damn backpack couldn't carry all of them, and grumbles, "Help me find everyone else. I need to get these back before Petra gets mad at me again."

"Aww, listening to your wife. You guys are adorable," Hanji sighs, taking a few stuffed animals to free up Levi's arms. "Sometimes I forget you two aren't actually married."

He mumbles for Hanji to shut up under his breath but he doubt that his friend is listening to him. When did they ever? But he's not actually displeased about their statements. He's pleased, even. If taking care of a fake baby and not kidnapping other people's fake babies meant he could spend time with Petra and make her happy, it isn't all that bad. And, well, if people thought they'd make a nice married couple, that didn't hurt either.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Yes, this is actually an assignment that some of my peers had for their government/economics class. You would have to take care of a stuffed animal but also give it to someone to babysit for two periods. (My friend would give me hers to babysit!) Underclassmen could steal your "baby" for extra credit although I don't know if that ever happened ^^"_

 **Word Count:** _1306_


	12. Cute

**A/N:** _I forgot I wrote this! It was for someone who wanted a fic where Levi was jealous. It was fun to write ^^ I think Levi is the type to get jealous rather easily but not say. I don't think he's the sort of person to get jealous over ridiculous things though. Some people can be scary that way..._

* * *

Petra thinks the squad is a little bit like a family. She's an only child, but she thinks if she had brothers they'd be a little like her squad members. She's always sort of viewed Eld and Gunter as her older brothers while Auruo wavered between being her most annoying sibling or the cousin she despised. And, she thinks, Eren is like a sweet younger brother, always looking to her when he's unsure what to do.

"Do you think they're ready now?" Eren asks, trying to peer into the oven to see if the cookies were finished baking yet. She can tell that it's taking every ounce of his willpower to not open the oven to take a quick peek. He looks over at her, his green eyes wide like a puppy. "Would it really hurt to take a look?"

She laughs at him and reaches up to ruffle his hair. "They'll bake faster if we don't open the oven door," she tells him. "Besides, it wouldn't be good to eat raw cookie dough, would it?"

The tips of Eren's ears turn red at the mention of eating raw cookie dough. He had tried to be sneaky about eating the leftover dough in the bowl before he washed it, but Petra had seen him licking the spoon when she was cleaning up the countertops. It's so fun seeing him so flustered over such a small thing that she can't help but tease him.

"Yeah, you're right," he says, smiling weakly as he rubs the back of his neck in the way he has when he's embarrassed. He looks around nervously, hoping to change the subject. When he sees the teapot sitting on the drying rack, he immediately walks over to it. "I'll make some tea like you showed me the other day! That would be good with cookies, wouldn't it?"

She smiles. "That'd be lovely. I think we can take the tea out right after you make it, which would be perfect timing! Could you make some black tea? I'm sure Captain Levi would like some even if he might not want any cookies."

"Ah, okay!" Eren says, but there's a worried look on his face now that he knows Captain Levi might drink the tea he makes.

It's adorable how his eyebrows are knitted in concentration as he carefully pours in enough water in the pot and brings it to a boil. He's so serious for such a simple task.

Petra looks at him affectionately. "You know, Eren," she says without thinking. "You're very cute."

"Cute? Me?" Eren says, startled. It's a good thing he isn't holding anything because Petra's sure he's the type to be very clumsy when he's embarrassed like he is now. "I'm sure you're just…cute is…the word doesn't suit me so well…"

Petra shrugs. "I think it's well suited to you. You're a very sweet boy." She makes her way to the cabinet to grab the proper tea leaves because Eren is too busy blushing and fidgeting to remember the tea he's supposed to be making.

"Thank you," Eren mumbles when she hands him the leaves. His face is still a rosy pink. She thinks the color in his cheeks makes him look even younger than he already is.

She's about to open her mouth and tease him some more when heavy footsteps enter the room, making Eren jump.

"Oi." The familiar drawl of the Captain's voice makes her turn the doorway where Levi is leaning. There's a deep frown on his face, and he looks more displeased than usual. "What are you two doing?"

Eren is busy stammering and even looks as if he's contemplating hiding behind Petra, so she answers for him instead. "Just baking, Captain," she says cheerfully, ignoring his scowl. "The cookies will be out in just a bit. We have some tea too if you can wait a little while. It's black."

His eyes flicker from the teapot and then back to Eren. "I have paperwork to do," he finally says. He pushes himself off the doorframe and leaves without giving them a goodbye or a second glance.

After his footsteps have completely disappeared, Eren lets out a sigh of relief. "The captain didn't seem to be in a very good mood," he laughs nervously. "Do you think he dislikes me? I think he was glaring at me especially hard today, but maybe I was just imagining it."

Petra purses her lips. She could probably tell him the truth and say, yes, she thinks the Captain seemed especially displeased with him today, but that would probably scare the poor boy and he's already so frightened of the captain despite having been part of the squad for a few weeks already.

Instead, she ruffles his hair playfully instead and says, "Nah, that's just his normal face."

* * *

She knocks lightly on his door and says, "May I come in, Captain? I brought you some tea and cookies since you seemed too busy to join us up in the kitchen earlier."

There's light coming out from the crack in his door, so she knows he's in there. She waits a few seconds for a reply, but he doesn't answer either because he's still annoyed or because he really is busy with paperwork. She could playfully threaten to just eat the goodies herself, but maybe she should just leave him alone or, since she was feeling a little kind, just tell him she'll leave everything at his door and he can get them when he's up.

"Come in," Levi finally says just as she's about to set the plate of cookies down.

When she enters, he doesn't even look up. But he doesn't seem to be doing paperwork either. He's just glaring at the pile of papers sitting in front of him, but he doesn't look particularly engaged in his task.

"Are you sure you're busy?" she asks as she sets the food on an empty section of his desk. "Because it kind of looks like you're pretending to be busy."

He gives her a sour look. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"Yes," she says without hesitation. "You don't even like doing paperwork, so why would you do it now?"

"I love paperwork. It's my favorite thing to do," he replies, but his surly expression says otherwise.

She turns her head to read one of the documents and frowns when she sees that it's a message from Commander Erwin regarding an upcoming expedition. Wanting to put the unpleasant thoughts of Titans and blood out of her mind, she perches herself at the edge of his desk and says, "Well, maybe you should take a break from it every once in a while. You can bake with Eren and me. Or, I don't know, go fishing. Eld said he was going to take us this weekend after we finish cleaning the castle." She tilts her head to observe his expression better. "I think it would be good for us. Eren's a sweet kid and I think he'd be more comfortable if you did something with him aside from scolding him all the time. And you can just hang out with all of us so you don't have to be alone with him."

She expects an outright "no" from him, but he only scowls even harder. "Tch. 'Sweet kid.'"

He looks a little like a grumpy child, just huffing but not really saying what's on his mind. It's a side of him she's never really seen, but it makes her want to laugh at him a little bit. It would probably make his mood even worse though.

A brief thought flashes across her mind and a grin begins to spread across her face before she can stop herself. "Are you maybe…jealous of him?"

He scoffs at her. "Jealous? How can I be jealous of a brat like that?" He's looking up from his papers now, giving her an indignant look and being more defensive than any innocent person would ever be.

She laughs gleefully at her captain, surprised that he would be so unhappy over something so silly. When she finally composes herself, stifling the rest of her giggles with a hand, she notices him hunched over his desk with a sullen look on his face.

"Hey," she says softly. "Are you mad at me?"

He doesn't say anything, so he's probably angry. Most people would leave, knowing better than to stay and agitate him even more, but he hasn't told her to leave so she remains.

She walks to the other side where he's turned his face and leans in close to him. "You can be mad, Levi," she tells him. "Is it because I called him cute and sweet? If you don't like it, you can just tell me."

He turns his face away from her again. "I don't care," he grumbles.

"Hey now. Do you want me to make you feel better? Do you want a hug, Levi?" She resists the urge to tack on "you big baby" at the end and instead just extends her arms.

He finally turns back to look at her, an infuriated glare on his face. "I don't want a fucking hug," he snaps, leaning his chair back away from her arms that are ready to envelop him. "I said I don't need one!"

"Shut up, it'll make you feel better," she insists, coming towards him even though he's leaning far too back in his chair for it to be safe.

He's tipped precariously on two legs of his chair now, wobbling dangerously. "Petra, if you come any closer I'm gonna fucking fall so–!"

When the chair slips beneath him, one hand reaches for the desk while the other one reaches for Petra and he ends up taking her down with him. They fall onto the floor with a painful _thud_ and he groans in pain at of his head hitting the floor.

Petra's face hurts from being smooshed against the buttons on her captain's shirt, but she keeps her arms wrapped tightly around him. "Do you feel better now?" she asks, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"I feel worse than before," he mutters, sitting up to rub the back of his head where it hit the floor. He gives her a sour look. "And the fact that you fell on me didn't exactly help either."

She decides not to point out the fact that he was the one who pulled her down with him so it's his own fault. Instead, she smiles at him and sits up herself, leaning back on her palms to admire his grumpy scowl.

"You know, Levi," she says affectionately when he begins to brush himself off. "You're kind of cute when you're jealous."

 _And_ , she thinks as she watches him splutter and his cheeks flush pink, _he's cute when he blushes too._

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing! It's always lovely for me to meet people who love Rivetra as well ^^_

 _I need to remember to add the line breaks a lot..._

 **DAIrinchan:** _That's actually what happened with the baby project! It became so chaotic that they didn't allow the teacher to do it again the following years :) Very fun while it lasted though! Also, thank you for the comments regarding them/they pronouns for Hanji. I'm still getting used to it because someone once said it was confusing to read, so I'm glad I'm getting better at it! It makes me very happy ^^_

 **Word Count:** _1813_


	13. A Dance For You

**A/N:** _Another HS AU. Someone wanted a dance with Rivetra ^^_

* * *

"You're a little late, aren't you?" a voice says when she steps onto her porch.

A normal person would probably scream if they saw a guy dressed all in black waiting for them in the front of their house, but Petra knows that familiar slouching figure and she scrunches her nose at him instead. "I thought you said you would be at the dance," she says. She pretends to be mad, but she isn't, not really. He's never been one to go to social events and the fact that he's even here to say goodnight in person is surprising already.

"I did go," he mumbles. "But then I left. There were too many damn people. It was making me claustrophobic."

"You went?" she says, surprised. She can't imagine him even walking into the room with the colored lights blazing and the music blaring. "In that outfit?"

"I said I would," he mumbles and turns his face away from her. He sounds grumpy like he usually is but the tips of his ears are turning a pretty shade of pink and she thinks that he's cute when he's embarrassed. "And there's nothing wrong with my outfit anyway."

He dresses like he always does, his clothes mostly black and maybe a few shades of gray, but his shoes are nicer than usual. She wants to tease him again, tell him that he looks like he's going to attend a funeral instead of a dance, but she doesn't want him to run away so she smiles and slips her hand into his. "Well, I'm glad you came," she says. "You still owe me a dance, you know."

"Why else do you think I'm here?" he says. He's still not looking at her, but his fingers remain intertwined with hers. "Is your dad going to mind?"

She glances at her phone. 11:53 flashes across the screen and Petra shakes her head. "It's fine. One dance won't take long."

"Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" he asks. "Is that why your dad wants you in your room by then?"

"That's not even how the story goes," she laughs. She flips through her phone. "Do you mind what song?"

He shrugs. "Whatever you want," he says.

A quiet piano plays a slow and familiar tune as she sets her phone down on the rails. She holds out a hand for him to take and he holds it awkwardly before she slips her fingers between his. He doesn't do very much dancing, she thinks, as she guides his other hand to her waist and she slides her hand up to his shoulder.

His hands are stiff, and he doesn't know how to move. If he stands like that anymore tensely she's afraid he might shatter in front of her, so she rests her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes. "Relax," she says to him, and she gently guides him to sway in time with the music.

He grips her hand a little too tightly and he swallows nervously as she twirls. It's one of the most ungraceful twirls and yet somehow, it's perfect because at least she's dancing with him. She almost laughs when she returns to him, the way he lets out a sigh of relief like he thought she would never return. His hands are gentle on her waist now and she smiles as he shivers when her hands move from his shoulders to hang around his neck.

"Hi," she says to him.

"Hey," he replies gruffly and she's happy that he's finally looking at her.

She's not sure if it's her or him who leans in first, but their foreheads are touching now. His eyes soften when she cups the side of his face in her hand and brushes a thumb across his cheek. "I love dancing with you," she tells him.

"I'm not any good at it," he mumbles. He's about to look away again but she smiles, and his gaze turns back to her face, he eyes, her lips.

And it's true that he's not the best dancer but she doesn't want to dance with anyone right now unless it's him. She likes the way he looks at her when they dance. His gaze is soft, almost tender, and she wants to cup his face into her hands, but that would ruin the dance and she wants to make sure they sway to every second of it. "You haven't stepped on my feet yet, so at least you're not bad."

He snorts. "That's a pretty low bar you're setting, Ral."

She shrugs and her twirls her another time. He moves with more fluidity now and there's not such a noticeable break when he holds her back in his arms again. "Did you stay at the dance very long?" she asks him. She wants to know if he saw her, if he danced with anyone there, if he wanted to ask her to dance but chickened out, but she decides that one question will do for now.

"I stayed there long enough to see you dance a few dances," he replies.

"And you didn't think to ask me to dance back then?"

"Of course, I did." He mumbles something else that she can't quite hear before sighing, frustrated about not being able to find the right words to explain himself, before saying grumpily, "Too many damn people. I told you."

"Well, this is still nice," she tells him.

And his face tells her that he doesn't believe her, but she's never been more sincere. Perhaps it's the fact that she's never seen him be so gentle that makes this dance so perfect. It makes the other dances that night so rough and rowdy in comparison, the lights too bright and the music too loud. She much prefers the soothing jazz from her phone and the chirping of crickets hiding in the bushes to the loud pop numbers that were played in her high school gym. In a way, she's sort of thankful that he didn't have the guts to ask her to dance on the dancefloor because she likes being alone with just him. Would he be holding her as closely as he is now? Would his hands be just as gentle? Would his gaze be just as soft?

"You looked really nice," he says suddenly. His heart is pounding so hard that she half-believes that it'll pop right out of his chest, so she holds her hand over it. His hand follows, holding her hand against his chest. He's nervous again, she knows because he's mumbling his words together just like he did before. "It makes me feel bad for not asking you before."

"Before?" she jokes, pretending to be insulted. "Do I not look nice now?" She brings their foreheads together again because she likes his gray eyes and their soft gaze when he looks at her.

Maybe if he were more romantic he'd give her a flirtatious smile and tell her of course she looks nice, that she's always beautiful, but he's never been very good with words. His cheeks flush and she wonders why he wears black so much when red is a perfectly good color on him. "Shut up," he mumbles. She's heard him say the same words but it's usually in a harsher tone. This one is quiet and embarrassed, words of a shy boy who doesn't know what else to say.

So her hand finds his face and her thumb traces over his lips as she brings their faces closer together. "Okay," she tells him.

The only thing nicer than the dance is this pause, a breath in the middle of their swaying to close the last gap between them. She finds he kisses like how he dances, tense at first and then sweet and gentle. His mouth is warm on hers and he slips his tongue between her lips like honey. His hands travel from her waist to her shoulders until they're cradling her face so tenderly. And she doesn't want to leave this moment, her hands ruffling his short undercut and his lips moving against hers as the last bars of the music ring out.

His eyes linger on her lips when she slowly pulls away and she can't help but smile when he reaches to brush her hair behind her ear.

"I should go now," she tells him. "I'll turn into a pumpkin if I don't get in my room soon."

"I told you that's how the story goes," he says.

She laughs when he leans in again, hoping for another kiss, so she grants his wish. It's shorter this time, but it's just as sweet and he looks at her with the same starry-eyed gaze he had when she had pulled away the first time.

"Save a dance for me next time," he tells her as she picks up her phone. "The next time there's a dance, I'll be there and ask you."

"Of course," she says. She doesn't think he'll ask her to dance with him next time. He'll probably watch from the sidelines again, but she'll save a dance for him anyway.

Her father asks her how the dance went as she passes by his room; she tells him it was fine because it was fine but tonight was perfect. If he knows about her last dance in front of the house, he doesn't say anything, and she creeps off to bed. She falls asleep dreaming of soft piano music and gentle lips against hers.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you for reading! I have a few Rivetra requests that I think I will get to this weekend, so please look forward to them ^^_

 **Word Count:** _1590_


	14. The Sound in the Attic

**A/N:** _I always feel that I am too ambitious when writing AUs, but it's so fun! Someone asked for a Jane Eyre AU, but I haven't read/watched it yet. I'm afraid it's more of just a Victorian Gothic AU. I really like the atmosphere of these types of stories ^^_

* * *

The maids and servants whisper about the inevitable marriage between her and the lord of the house, but she doesn't pay them any mind. It's ridiculous to think she could ever marry a man with such wealth when she had come from nothing. After a life of misfortune, she's grateful for the life she has now. To wish for something greater than what she has now seems pretentious and ungracious. No, she's content with her humble job as a governess, enjoys the work she has with the children, and the friends she's made amongst the other servants as well as the people of the house. The rumors of marriage are just that anyway, rumors, and they can talk all they want. It's true that master of the house was fond of her, even enjoyed her company, but she's sure that the fantasy that people have drawn up in their minds will never come true.

"Are you sure you're not marrying him?" Auruo asks anxiously. Although he pretends to be above such gossip, the truth is that the footman tells as many rumors as he "happened to overhear." Now he stares at her with such a concerned expression that it almost makes Petra laugh. Surely he knows that these words are as false as any of the other words that came about in whispers around the manor.

"I assure you I'm not," Petra replies, rolling her eyes. She wonders how he grew to be so gullible. She'd scold him for believing in such silly things, but he's become one her dearest friends in the manor and she ends up forgiving him for more things than she ought to. "Wouldn't that be such a spectacle? A servant marrying the lord of the house? You should know better than to believe everything you hear in the kitchen, you know."

He frowns slightly, not believing that she's telling him the truth even though her words cannot be anything but true. "It's not like that's never happened before," he mutters grumpily, unhappy after being scolded like a young child. He folds his arms across his chest and slouches back in his chair. "Down at Shiganshina, isn't there a young lady who eloped with one her servants?"

Petra wrinkles her nose at him. Why does he partake in such unnecessary gossip? It doesn't do well for Rosewood Hall if the servants are idly gossiping away instead of focusing on their duties. While she has heard whispers of such things, she's never paid it any much attention. It wasn't any of her business who ran away with whom and she didn't care for such frivolous talk anyway. "You shouldn't speak of such things," she tells him.

"But you like him, don't you?" Auruo insists. He studies her reaction carefully, but there's a frown set on his face, determined to dislike whatever defense she puts up in front of him. Whether she confirms or denies it, she already knows he's made up his mind what he thinks of the head of the manor.

She shouldn't give him a response at all, but his question admittedly captures her off guard and for some reason she's nervous. She fumbles with a loose thread on the sleeve of her gown and mumbles something incoherent. "Like him? Well, there's no reason to dislike the man you're working for, is there? There's a roof over our head and we get paid fairly for our work here," she says. The longer she talks, the more it confirms the idea in Auruo's head, but it seems she can't stop now that she's started. "And he's very kind, isn't he? He was the first person to greet me when I arrived here even though I was nothing but a servant and he speaks with us as if we're equals."

He looks like a sullen child now, pouting even though she's only given the master ordinary compliments that any servant would say when speaking of the head of the house. "He's just trying to keep up appearances," Auruo mutters. He turns to Petra now, leaning in close to her and bringing his voice down to a whisper. "But don't you think he's odd sometimes? He's uncommonly kind and polite to use even though he needn't be. It makes me think he's hiding something."

"Why would he need to be nice to us if he's hiding something?" Petra asks, baffled.

"So we don't suspect anyone as kind as he is up to something!" Auruo says as if this is obvious. He leans back in his chair, disappointed that this hasn't sprung into Petra's mind earlier. "You know that they say the kindest people hide the darkest secrets."

"I'm sure no one has ever said that," Petra says, amused. "I think you're just imagining things again. Who has put this idea in your head anyway? Perhaps one of the cooks or the stable boys? You know how silly they can be."

"Do you think I would make a joke out of something like this?" Auruo asks, clearly offended. She wishes that he'd lower his voice. It's quite late already and his voice might wake those who have already gone to bed. "I'm telling you there's something suspicious. He keeps to himself a lot even though he pretends to be sociable. You know he doesn't like people wandering around the manor at night?"

"Because it's dangerous to wander anywhere at night," Petra points out. "You're being ridiculous right now. You shouldn't speak about him that way." But his words remind her of something that had happened before.

Her first night here she had heard strange thumps in the attic of the manor. She remembers asking other servants about it only for them to say that it was probably a raccoon or other pest running around the roof of the house. She had wandered around the top floor of the house, wondering if she should venture into the attic. She might have imagined it, but she remembers hearing a muffled voice. She thought perhaps someone was speaking to her, calling for someone, and that made her all the more curious. Her hand hovered over the handle to the attic, ready to pull the door open and climb up to the attic where no one went. It was used for storage after all, someone had told her that first day, but no one went up there because everything they needed was already in the house. Only the master's things were up there and there was no need for them to go snooping around his things.

Just as she was about to open the attic door, a hand closed over her own and pulled her arm away from the door.

"Petra," the person says, and she recognizes the voice as belonging to her master. He has a different smile on his face now than when he first greeted her, but she's not sure what sort of expression he has. "What are you doing up here?"

Embarrassed at being caught, Petra stumbles backward and nearly trips over her own feet. "I thought I heard someone up here," Petra mumbles, ashamed to even look at her master in the face. She can feel her face redden as she tried to find an excuse that would keep her from being kicked from the manor on her first day. With her luck, she'd probably be out of the house by the time the sun rose the next morning. "It was keeping me awake and I was wondering why someone would be awake at this hour."

Anger flashes briefly across his face and it frightens her for a moment, but it immediately softens when he looks at her again. "Is that so? I'm sure you were just imagining it. The stress of traveling here must be getting to you. After a night's rest, I'm sure you'll feel much better. There isn't anything up there that should be making any noise except perhaps a raccoon or cat scampering across the roof," he tells her. The candle he holds is dangerously close to her face, and the shadows across his face look frightening to her. "It's dangerous for a girl like you to be wandering in such a large house at this time of night. It's best if you go to bed, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir," she mumbles and scurries off.

Since that night she no longer wandered around the attic at night and she paid no mind to it during the day. While the noises had ceased for a few nights afterward, they returned soon after, but she just believed in the explanations of those who had worked in the house longer than she as well as the owner of the manor. After all, they would know, but now Auruo's words make her doubt them.

She's about to tell Auruo to go to sleep, but instead she asks, "Do you sometimes hear noises in the middle of the night? Like thumping or thrashing about, like something's trying to get out of the attic?"

The look on Auruo's face tells her that he knows exactly what she's talking about, but he looks as though he doesn't want to discuss it. "Probably just a cat, isn't it?" he mumbles, looking sick. It's as if he's trying to convince himself that it's nothing instead of believing it's anything out of the ordinary even though just moments before he had suggested there was something not quite right about the house. "In a house as old as this, everything sounds strange in the night. Your mind imagines things."

His reaction makes her even more certain that it's not any sort of animal fussing about up in the attic, but she can tell he'll never be able to sleep if they pursue this conversation any further. She gently places a hand on his shoulder and says, "You're quite right. It's probably best that we both head to bed before we begin sharing ghost stories next."

Auruo mutters something under his breath about how he's not scared of any ghosts, that it's silly to even suggest such things exist because he doesn't believe in them one bit, but he scurries off to bed faster than she does and she can only smile in amusement. As she heads off to bed herself, she thinks she hears another sound coming from the upper levels of the manor, but the silence that follows it makes her think that perhaps she's imagined the entire thing and she decides that she must sleep before she imagines anything else strange.

* * *

She hears the sound again the next night and the night after that. She doesn't want to speak up about it because she has a feeling she'll receive the same explanation she got when she first arrived at Rosewood Manor, but she thinks that it won't disappear even if she pretends it's nothing. In the end, curiosity gets the best of her and she wanders about the manor in the middle of the night, using only the dim moonlight that streams through the curtains to guide, fearing that a candlelight would be too bright and capture the attention of anyone else who happened to be awake.

The governess is extra careful this time to make sure no one is about when she approaches the door to the attic. She presses her ear to the wooden door above her, listening carefully. The sound is less like a scurry of paws against a roof and more like…an animal trying to break free of something.

Taking a deep breath, she opens the attic door and climbs up, not sure what she'll encounter. She prays it's all just her imagination, that she'll find nothing up there except her master's personal belongings and feelings of guilt for doubting that such a kind man would ever be capable of hiding dark secrets from his servants.

When she finally climbs up, making sure to pull up the ladder and close the door after her lest anyone passing by found out someone had come up to the attic, she finds a crumpled figure lying in the corner of the attic. It seems like there's a rope tying it to its place like a dog tied to a post, but this thing is so much bigger than a dog. Petra takes a step to approach it, but the sound of her steps alerting it to her and it suddenly stands up, lunging at her.

Crying out, Petra stumbles backward, tripping and falling onto the wooden floor. When she opens her eyes, the figure stands before her but not quite close enough to reach her because of the rope that ties it back. She sees that it's not a thing, but a person. He's dressed in rags and looks as if he hasn't eaten properly because of his sunken in cheeks. She raises her hands above her, trying to shield herself from whatever he'll do to her, but he merely stands there with a wary expression.

"Who…who are you?" Petra manages to ask. She's still sprawled on the floor, looking at the mysterious man. She's sure she's never seen him before in her life.

"Are you a servant here?" he asks. His voice is strange like there's not enough air in his throat for him to speak properly. It makes her wonder when the last time he had a proper drink and meal. When she nods at him hesitantly, he turns away from her. "You shouldn't be here."

"Then why are you here?" she asks him. She realizes that he's the one tied up and she isn't. If anyone should be afraid, it should be him, shouldn't it? Although she isn't the one who tied him up, she imagines he's probably distrusting of those who do come in and out of the attic. Every step she takes towards him, he takes a step back until he's finally back in the corner. "Who put you up here?"

She can barely make out his face in this darkness, but she sees that his eyes are gray from the moonlight from the single attic window and that they burn with an intense hatred. "The master of Rosewood Manor," he says bitterly. "Who else would be cruel enough to lock me in such a hopeless place?" She's never seen anyone with so much loathing in their expression.

"Master Walcott would never do something so terrible…," Petra says, but she's hesitant. She remembers the wicked look on his face the last time her master had caught her so close to the attic and she recalls the words that Auruo had said the other night. Was there perhaps another side to that man that no one had known about? "But why would he lock you up here?"

"Because I'm an Ackerman. Levi Ackerman," he replies. The name sounds vaguely familiar to her and she remembers where she's heard the name before. She remembers the servants gossiping about them before, whispering about how the Ackerman family was the richest in Sina and that their wealth was coveted by many. But why would an Ackerman be locked in the attic of Rosewood Manor? "Your master is not as kind as you believe him to be. He's kept me here in exchange for money from the Ackerman family, claiming that he'd return me if they gave him all the money he's demanded of them, but he's kept me for months. He's waiting to suck them dry of all their wealth before he returns my corpse to them."

The words he says make no sense to her. They sound like one of the more nonsensical rumors that have spread across Rosewood Manor and yet…they make sense. She remembers seeing Master Walcott returning each month with expensive ornaments to decorate the house with, the servants wondering where on earth he had gotten the money from in the first place. She recalls the mysterious warnings he had given her about the attic and everyone's advice for her to stay away. And most of all she remembers the strange look on his face when she had mentioned the noise in the attic in the first place, that fleeting look of absolute fury that had made her blood run cold.

It's enough to make her rush to the man's side, working furiously to undo the rope that binds his wrists together. He's been tugging at them for so long that they've burned marks into his arm, bloodied scars that mark where he had tried to break free but failed. The sight of it almost makes her gag, but she tries to focus on the ropes instead of his wrists.

"What are you doing?" he asks, alarmed.

"Freeing you," she says through gritted teeth. The rope is tied in so many knots that she doubts that she can get any of them free, but she manages to undo one and the rest begin to follow more easily. "Your family must be worrying about you terribly. They must be hopeless if they're still paying Master Walcott after all this time."

The man tries to jerk himself away from her, nearly falling over out of exhaustion and lack of food. "You mustn't," he warns her. "If you get caught, he'll punish the both of us."

Petra glares at him and grabs hold of the ropes once more. "If I don't help you, you really will rot in here and your family will never know what became of you. If he's cruel enough to lock you in here for so long, then I'm sure he won't hesitate to let you die in here as well."

He must see that she's right because he remains still after that, allowing her to help him get free. After a long silence, he whispers, "Thank you."

She opens her mouth to respond, but she hears a noise down below. They're footsteps, she realizes, and she recognizes the gait enough to know who it is. The realization makes her heart almost stop before Levi shoves her towards the other side of the room, hissing at her to hide in the other corner before she's found out. She finally takes her place behind some forgotten furniture, lying in the shadows and praying that it isn't the master that's walking up the attic steps right now and that this is all a mistake.

The figure who walks up is unmistakable though and she recognizes the silhouette on the wall from the candlelight. It's Master Walcott and she can tell by his heavy footsteps against the wooden floor that he's unhappy about something.

She hears him approach the corner where Levi is, and she peers out from the abandoned couch to see what's happening.

"Your family must believe you're dead because they've given me even less money than they had the previous month," Master Walcott says. He uses a tone that Petra has never heard before. It's as if he's sneering. When she looks, she sees him leaning menacingly towards Levi. "Perhaps its time I've disposed of you. If they believe you're dead, maybe it's best that you are."

Levi merely looks up at his kidnapper, his freed hands hidden behind his back. "If word ever gets out that I am dead and it's by your hand, the Ackerman family won't be pleased, Walcott," he warns.

These are the wrong words because Walcott kicks Levi in the stomach without any restraint. He kicks him over and over again, not even stopping when Levi begins to cough up blood. He only stops when he hears a terrified yelp in the corner of the room.

Terrified, Petra clamps a hand over her mouth, cursing herself for not remaining silent. She closes her eyes, bracing herself for whatever punishment is in store for her once she's been discovered but that moment never comes. She hears a scuffle, a grunt, and a thud of bodies struggling on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Walcott on the floor, fighting off Levi. He's completely forgotten the noise he had heard previously, focusing instead on his rebelling captive.

He easily overtakes the man. Levi's at a disadvantage after all. He hasn't eaten properly in months, hasn't seen sunlight, hasn't had a decent drink of water, while Walcott has been comfortably living in his manor. It's not a fair fight at all.

"I could kill you right now," Walcott hisses as he pins Levi down. Petra doesn't have to look to know he has that frightening expression on his face, the one that had made her shiver that night he had stopped her from coming up here. "I _should_ kill you for even daring to raise a hand against me."

"Don't," Levi chokes. He groans as Walcott presses against his throat, trying to crush him with his bare hands. "You can get more money from my family, you're not just doing it the right way. My hair – cut it. Bring it back and they'll know you have me for sure. They'll give you more, I'm sure. Just –"

There's the slam of something hitting the floor. The sound makes Petra flinch, but she doesn't dare make a sound. She doubts Levi can save her a second time. She can only watch in horror as Walcott finally lets go of Levi, standing up to brush himself off.

"A decent idea from you, Ackerman," Walcott says, smirking. He frowns at a smudge he finds on the sleeve of his shirt, disgusted at the filth. Again, he ties Levi up, making sure to secure the knots much tighter than they were before. "I'll spare you for now, but you had better stop making a racket… my servants are getting suspicious and I'd really hate to bring you back to your mother in pieces."

Levi snarls as Walcott turns to leave but collapses onto the floor once the attic door slams shut. It takes Petra a while to muster up the courage to run to him, still shocked by what she had just witnessed.

She kneels next to his crumpled body, unsure if she should touch him, fearing that doing so might hurt him even more. She simply hovers over him instead, hands wavering before finally touching his face gently and trying not to cry at the blood dripping from his head. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. He would have been beaten whether she was there or not, but it would have been less severe if she hadn't been there.

"It's fine," he tells her, his breathing heavy. He looks to her, his own injuries forgotten. "Are you alright?"

"Yes…are you?" she asks, but she can already see how much blood he's lost. If he's beaten like this again and again, she's not sure how much longer he'd be able to live. If he wants to survive, they need to get him out of there as quickly as possible, but the risk of getting caught and angering Master Walcott is far too high.

"I'll be fine," he assures her. He swallows and sighs, finally sitting up and resting his back against the wall. "Don't help me anymore. It's not worth it."

"I'll save you," she says because turning away from him isn't an option for her. She's known hopelessness and misfortune. To turn her back on him now is to turn her back on her own past, and that would be ungrateful for everything she has now. "You want to get out of here don't you?"

"You've seen the type of man he is. You'd be foolish to do something to anger him."

He's right. Now that she knows Master Walcott's true nature, she can never look at that man in the same way again. Still, she can't stand the idea of letting him get away with something so cruel, so if she must plot something under her master's own nose, she will.

"I need to help you escape or else you'll be here forever, so trust me," she tells him.

There is a flicker of hope in his eye. He's only just met her, and she's caused him more pain than he would have endured without her, but she's his only hope now. "Then I will," he replies. "What's your name?"

"Petra," she says. Her voice seems so loud in the little attic, but there's no one else there beside them. "My name is Petra Ral."

She leaves him with promises to come back for him and he looks like he doesn't believe her, but her name is the only thing that he whispers as she leaves. When she returns to her room, she stares at the ceiling and wonders why it feels as if she's left him too soon.

* * *

She can barely stand to be in the same room as Master Walcott, but she mustn't let him know that she had gone where he had told her to stay away. She keeps a polite smile on her face, bowing slightly as he greets all of them.

"Petra, good morning," he says as usual. He smiles at her so sweetly that she wonders how the man before her can be the same cruel demon that had beat a helpless man half to death just the night before. It disgusts her.

The other maids giggle and whisper amongst themselves as they watch Master Walcott bend down to kiss her hand, but Petra doesn't hear a word of it. She just watches the man carefully, feigning a smile as if everything is alright and she doesn't know the secret of who he really is.

She comes to realize why Auruo has found Master Walcott so suspicious before but had never been able to explain exactly how. It's his smile. It's mesmerizing, almost hypnotic, but it's also empty. It's always been empty. It's empty as he's smiling at her now before he turns to leave. It makes her blood run cold.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Some people really liked it on Tumblr, so it looks like I'll be writing a part two to this eventually. (Although, probably not anytime soon ^^") Hope you liked it!_

 **Word Count:** _4319_


	15. A Place Where We Belong

**A/N:** _Someone requested a Tangled AU. Will be working on_ follow ups _for some chapters._

* * *

"I told you that you don't need to braid my hair," the girl says, pouting. She reaches up to touch the top of her head, but he smacks her hand away. The mass of golden hair atop her head has a luxurious feel to it, but its volume makes it difficult for him to braid it all properly. Levi's never seen anything like it.

"If I don't, it's going to get caught on something," he mutters unhappily. At least the French braiding portion is almost over. That's always the most difficult part for him. He adds another section of hair to the piece he's holding before placing it in the middle. "How do you even manage all of this anyway?"

"I told you, it doesn't get tangled!" she tells him. The girl tries to turn around, but Levi makes a hissing noise that makes her freeze up and sit still again. Picking at the grass next to her, the girl asks, "Do you braid people's hair often?"

"Not really," Levi mumbles.

He hasn't braided anyone's hair in ages. He's too busy stealing people's purses and wallets to do something like that anymore, and while threading his fingers through her hair is a pleasant experience, he really wishes he could go back to doing what he does best. He could be running away with the most valuable crown in the kingdom if she hadn't taken it from him. Imagine, a barefoot girl with nothing but a frying pan in her hand and seventy-foot-long hair knocking him out and stealing from him what he had stolen from a very heavily guarded palace! Even when he had threatened to throw her out the window (a very empty threat since he was tied up by her hair and had no idea where she had hidden the crown), she had demanded that he take her out to the festival taking place next week before she revealed the location of the crown. (She hadn't said festival, funnily enough. She described it as the "day of the floating lights." He wondered when the last time she had gone out was. Surely, she couldn't have been kept in that tower for her entire life, right?) He never thought anything like that would happen to him, but he must be getting rusty to allow a girl like her barter with him like this.

"What should I do with this piece?" he asks her, holding out a short piece of hair hidden at the back of her neck behind the rest of her hair. Unlike the rest of her hair, it's only an inch or so long and a warm ginger color instead of a deep golden blonde.

Startled, she quickly reaches her hand back to touch it, her fingers accidentally brushing his and making him let go. "Don't do anything with it if it's too short. I'm sure the rest of my hair will hide it."

He frowns.

In the short time that he's known her, he's found her to be rather talkative. It probably has to do with being locked in a tower for most of her life, but now he knows more about her than he cares to. For example: Her name is Petra, but she either doesn't want to share her last name or doesn't know what it is. At first, Levi thought it was the first reason, but he's beginning to strongly suspect that it's actually the latter that is true. She's also revealed that she lives with one other person who often goes out to gather food and other supplies for most of the day. She refers to this person as "Mother Gothel," but she's also told Levi that the woman was not her real mother. Her hair has never been cut since she's been born. Most of the days she spends painting and reading books. Sometimes she likes to bake, but she's only decent at cooking. If she's been outside, she can't remember but she imagines that the outside world is a beautiful place; it's her greatest desire to travel to different places and experience everything the world has to offer. All of this and more, and yet she says nothing about the strange lock of ginger hair at the back of her head.

"Why's it orange?" Levi asks. He makes his tone disinterested, bored, but he's genuinely curious about her for once. "The rest of your hair is yellow."

"The rest of my hair is _blonde_ ," Petra corrects him. She turns her head to glare at him. "And that lock of hair is _ginger_ , not orange."

"You're going to mess up the braid if you keep turning your head like that," he says, and she turns around. He notices that she never answered his question though.

As he continues braiding her hair, he notices that what she said is right. It doesn't tangle at all. His fingers don't snag when he runs them through her hair. If it tangled a little bit, he could loop the end of the braid around the mess at the end of her hair and not have to use a hair tie, but it seems that he'll have to find something to tie her hair in the end because of her untangled hair. He'd grumble about it being a hassle, but the mystery of her hair distracts him from doing so.

Why would a girl have such long hair? It can't be for beauty reasons because there are limits to those sorts of things, Levi figures. While he's sure there must be a logical explanation, he can't think of one and he's sure that she won't be willing to tell him especially since she's so secretive over one lock of hair.

He asks a different question instead.

"Is there a reason why you decided to trust me enough to take you on this journey of yours?" he asks. He's still braiding, the girl's plait now past her shoulder blades.

"A reason?" the girl murmurs. She reaches for the top of her head, placing her hand on top, but this time Levi lets it stay there. "Your eyes, I guess."

"My eyes?" he repeats.

God, is she a stupid romantic of some sort? It's possible. He hadn't checked if any of those novels in her room were the type where swashbuckling heroes sweep the helpless maiden off her feet and the escape on a horse to a happy ending. He probably should have. If it turns out that she's looking for a romance, he's going to have to leave her midway through the trip because this isn't what he signed up for.

"Yes, your eyes," Petra says again. She lowers her hand to her own eye, tracing her cheekbone as she speaks as if she's trying to remember the expression he had on when they first met. "It's like you were looking for a place to go. Not just a place to hide, but a place where you could be. A place where you could belong."

* * *

Before Levi was a thief, he was an errand boy and thief-in-training. Before that, he was just an orphan who stole things to survive. That was back when he still braided hair.

He would braid his sister's hair when her hair got too long to be put in pigtails without the hair flying into her face. It was never very long because she would cut it fairly often – long hair made it easier for others to grab, which is something to avoid when you're training to become a thief like they were – but whenever it was even a little longer than the typical length, she would beg him to braid it for her.

Levi would grumble about it, saying she should learn how to braid her own damn hair but in truth, he liked to braid her hair. It was one of the few times he could use his hands for something other than committing crimes. It was one of the few times that his fingers could be gentle.

Her hair was nothing like Petra's. It was almost as thick, but her hair was coarser and had about a million tangles in it. At first, it annoyed him to brush them out, but he found out he could just untangle the top part and knot them at the end using the rest of the mess and get rid of using hair ties entirely. It's a good thing he did. Isabel always lost those damn things.

"What'd you steal today?" Isabel would always ask him.

"Enough to eat," he'd always reply.

He never really stole more than he needed to back in those days. If he got caught, there would be no one to take care of Isabel.

"Can I come with you next time?"

"Absolutely not."

She always did anyway. He would teach her how to get small things – bracelets, necklaces, pocket watches, things that people wouldn't miss until it was too late. Honestly, he would have preferred that she go to school, but it's not like they could have afforded it even with all their thievery.

"It would be nice if we didn't have to do this," Levi sometimes grumbled.

"Why?" Isabel asked him. She turned around, messing up the braid he was working on. "Isn't it nice that we get to be together?"

"It'd be nicer if we could do that without having to steal shit," he replied.

It's true though. He'd be much more bitter and angry if it weren't for Isabel, but that didn't mean he wanted to live like this forever. She deserved better after all.

"Then we'll find a place together," she told him excitedly. Turning around, Isabel knelt on the ground in front of Levi, one of her hands on his knee. One of her half-done braids was unfurling, but she didn't care. "A place where we belong where we can live in a nice house and you can be a professional thief and I can be your apprentice!"

He had to smile at that even though it wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

"Sure, we'll do that," Levi agreed, ruffling the top of her head and mussing up her hair even further. "Now turn around so I can finish braiding your hair."

She turned around happily, continuing to babble on about their future house and jobs as Levi finished plaiting her hair.

They never did find a place though.

* * *

"What about you?" Petra asks him.

He realizes that he's almost done braiding her hair now. It's well past her waist and he's sure that by the time he's done, the braid will be longer than the girl is tall.

"What about me?" Levi says gruffly.

"Why did you agree to take me on this trip?" she says curiously.

It's a good question. He could have easily killed her and searched her tower for the crown by himself. He's killed men for much less in the past. Still, the way she spoke of the outside world intrigued him. He wants to say that it's the villain in him that wanted to show her around the world and expose her to its darkest crevices, revealing to her that the world isn't as wonderful as it seems. If you don't belong, it will destroy you. It would certainly make this meaningless journey more entertaining to him. Still, seeing her gasp at the soft grass beneath her feet, watching her laugh as she splashed about in the river, and seeing her marvel at the beautiful forests – taking the world and making it a place for her to love and enjoy in a way he had never seen anyone do - makes him believe that he might have agreed for a different reason.

He uses a loose piece of string hanging from the sleeve of his shirt to tie up the end of her braid. Her hair is so thick, he almost doesn't have enough thread to tie it off.

"I wanted the crown," Levi finally says.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I don't write for Rivetra as much as I'd like haha._

 **Word Count:** _2001_


	16. But It's Not Like You'd Do Anything

**A/N:** _Someone asked for a high school AU where Petra is a nerd and Levi is popular, haha. I made Petra a band geek although I don't really know what goes on in_ band _. I was on the band bus during a trip though and it was rather wild. Very fun!_

* * *

He should really go. He doesn't know why he's stayed so long. He usually leaves within the first hour, citing previous engagements or just complete disinterest if he's feeling particularly bad-tempered that day. At any rate, it's time for him to leave. He's never been fond of parties anyway. There are far too many people, and he dislikes the way they act when they're in large groups – the silly girls with their high-pitched voices as they gossip and giggle, the self-centered jocks who make a mess because whoever's the loudest and rambunctious is clearly the most impressive of them all, and the absolute madness that happens on the dance floor. The floor's all sticky because too many people have sloshed beer out from their cups, and there are crumbs everywhere. Some maniac has added a tacky disco ball to the ceiling and the colorful reflections are beginning to hurt Levi's eyes. God, he's been here way too long.

"Hey," he says, grabbing Hanji's sleeve. He grabs them so roughly that his friend nearly tips over. "Hey, I'm going to leave now."

"What is that?" Hanji says, leaning down to hear him more properly. They've already had too many drinks and for some reason being drunk makes it difficult for them to hear and understand things. It's also what makes them ten times more annoying to be around than usual. "You're going to have to speak louder, Levi. You know I can't hear you over the music!"

Levi glowers and is about to lean up to whisper it again in their ear – he can't stand shouting, it's far too disruptive – but they pull away, cackling.

"Oh, I don't even need to listen to what you have to say! You're tired of this place, I can see it on your face!" Hanji cackles, their voice so loud that it can easily be heard over the music. IT's attracted the attention of many other partygoers as well. "You can't go now though, Levi."

"Why not?" he asks, annoyed. He's sure that Hanji will give him another useless reason to stay. "If you need someone to drive you home, just ask Erwin or Mike. Or walk home. It isn't very far from your house."

"Oh, that's not it," Hanji says, rolling their eyes. They lean over, throwing an arm around him, but they end up putting their entire weight on him and he nearly falls over. "You can't leave because _she's_ here."

Hanji doesn't say a name, but Levi knows exactly who they're talking about. It's highly unlikely that Hanji's telling the truth. They're known to tell lies especially when they're drunk. It looks like they're lying as well now because when Levi's eyes follow to where they're pointing, he only sees a girl he's never seen before. It seems she knows him though because his gaze startles her and she blushes as she waves to him. Oh Jesus, it looks like she might walk over here too.

"Who the fuck is that?" Levi says then immediately turns Hanji and himself around so that they're no longer facing the crowd, but Hanji is still pointing. This time they're pointing at a bust that Levi is surprised hasn't broken yet. He smacks their hand down. "Stop fucking pointing. I don't even know that girl."

Hanji cranes their neck back to speak with the girl who had approached them. "Sorry, he doesn't know you. I wasn't trying to point at you anyway. You just got in the way," they say, leaving the girl dejected. To Levi, Hanji says, "Oh, you know who I meant anyway. Petra! Petra's here! Don't you want to see her? She's the only reason you go to those 'stupid football games' anyway. You like to see her playing her cute little tuba or whatever."

"It's a French horn and I only go to those stupid games because you and Mike keep dragging my ass out there," Levi snaps.

It's only partly true. He only has to be dragged there part of the way because he does truthfully enjoy watching the girl from his math class play in the marching band during football games. Well, it's more of a pep band that stands in the back of the bleachers and plays their little hearts out even though no one can hear them over all the cheering, but he still likes to watch her. It's really the only good look of Petra that he gets outside of school because they don't run in the same social circles. While Levi skips school and hits different parties every other night, Petra is inside studying and practicing her French horn.

"Sure," Hanji snorts. "I swear I saw her though. I mean, how many other people in this town have orange hair? It stands out quite a bit too. I saw her wave to me as well. She must have wandered off or something though."

"Maybe you imagined it," Levi says. He's glancing at the door now, thinking of a way to get Hanji off him without having to drop them on the floor like a log. "How many drinks have you had again?"

"Oh, like two or five. I forget. They all start to blend together after the third one, you know," Hanji says, nodding their head and waving their hand about like Levi knows even though he really doesn't. They turn around again, scanning the room for a certain ginger. It seems that they find what they're looking for because their face immediately lights up, and they attempt to leap to their feet and run to where she is, but they stumble and nearly trip over their own feet before Levi rushes to their side. "Oh, she's right there! In the kitchen, did you see? She was with someone. A jock, I think. Oh, that's not good."

Even though he knows this probably isn't true, Levi finds himself looking anyway and it all turns out to be true. There Petra is, chatting nervously with someone on the football team who keeps shoving a drink at her. In his surprise, Levi nearly drops Hanji.

"I need to get her," Levi mutters. He clumsily props them up against him before disposing of them on a nearby couch where they end up evicting about two other occupants who were sitting there previously. He doesn't say goodbye, just makes a mental note to text Mike or Erwin to pick up their drunken friend.

"Go get her, Levi!" Hanji calls out as he disappears into the crowd.

He doesn't say sorry as he shoves people aside as he tries to get to Petra. In time, people just stand aside for him, parting with him like the sea did for Moses. When Levi finally reaches her, he grabs her arm and roughly yanks her away from the boy she's talking to.

"Hey, fuck off," he says to the football player who's still wearing his jersey after tonight's game. God, he looks so fucking pretentious. The boy scampers away, frightened of glare that Levi gives him. Levi looks at Petra and snatches away the drink she holds, setting it on a nearby countertop. "You. What are you doing here?"

Petra blinks at him as if she doesn't quite believe he's standing there talking to him. She reaches up to adjust her glasses, but she isn't wearing them today. She has contacts on, giving him a better look at the golden amber of her eyes. "Right, well," she says, biting her lip. "Hanji invited me today. They said it was a shame that band never comes to the afterparties even though we're always playing for the football team. And I thought I could see you…"

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If she had wanted to talk to him, she could always just turn around during calculus instead of chasing him down at a party. Then again, if he wanted to talk to her, he could always do the same instead of staring at the back of her head. Maybe he's the stupid one.

He's dragging her through the crowd, pushing his way past people so that they can get to the door. This isn't the place for them.

"I don't even like these places," Levi mutters, but he doubts she can hear him over all the noise. Tugging her along, he looks behind him to see if she's still alright. "Oi, the next time you come to one of these, don't talk to any of those guys. Or let them get you a drink. You don't know what they'll do with you."

"But I can talk to you?" she asks. He looks at her warily and she's tucking her hair behind her ears. "It's not like you'd do anything to me, right?"

He opens his mouth to say no, but he makes the mistake of looking at her.

Her cheeks are flushed red because the house is too warm from being stuffed with too many people. Her ginger hair, usually brushed so that it falls neatly around her face, is messy and tangled from pushing past others in this crowded room. The look she gives him also doesn't help, her amber eyes large and wide while her lips are parted ever so slightly as she waits for his answer.

His answer never comes though. Hanji swoops in just then, throwing an arm around Petra and giving her affectionate but sloppy kisses all over her cheek.

"Oh, Petra! You actually came! I'm so glad! You're the most exciting thing to happen to these parties, did you know?" Hanji babbles. Levi is sure that they had another drink since the last time he saw them.

Petra looks behind at Levi, but he just waves her off, muttering something about how they'll see each other on Monday in math class.

Usually, he hates Hanji. They have terrible timing and are unbearably annoying at times, but he's grateful for them right now. If he were with Petra for another moment more – her face flushed and that curious look on her face as she tips her face upward towards him – well, he wouldn't know what he'd do.

* * *

 **A/N:** _See you soon. As always, thank you for the love and support ^^ It is always great to know you guys are enjoying my writing/stories!_

 **Edit:** _Thank you to DAIrinchan for pointing out inconsistencies in the pronouns I use for Hanji! I'm embarrased that you saw them, but thank you for being so kind about my mistakes ^^_

 **Word Count:** _1687_


	17. The Angel Next Door

**A/N:** _Someone asked me for a modern AU and I was planning on writing an AU inspired by the movie The Last 5 Years. That movie really grinds my gears but Anna Kendrick is so pretty and has such a beautiful voice. Grrr. It's been a year but I'm still steamed! You don't really need to watch it to know what's going on in this fic though ^^_

* * *

If Petra had the chance to redo her life, she really doesn't know what she'd do. She fucked up her current one so much, she doesn't know if she'd do any better if given another shot. In fact, she'd probably screw it up even more. Or maybe she'd just become a hermit and not do anything at all, which is pretty much what she does anyway when she gets home from work if she's not running around preparing to leave for her other part-time job. Jeez, how did someone manage to mess up so much in one lifetime?

"Hey," her roommate calls from the kitchen. She's making some new ungodly concoction that they'll no doubt have to throw out in the end. Petra loves Hanji, but there are times when she wishes her roommate would stop experimenting with their leftovers and just order takeout. "Are you wallowing in self-pity again?"

"Yes," Petra moans from the couch. It's what she usually does when she does get free time, just lounge around the apartment gloomily and think about how much things have fallen apart. It could be worse, of course. She could be homeless or dead in a ditch. There are times when she thinks those alternatives are better though. "Hanji, just let me have my pity party in peace, will you?"

Hanji sighs and walks over to her. She sits at the edge of the couch, reaching out to pat Petra's head. "Oh, Petra. My poor darling Petra. You shouldn't waste your youth feeling sorry for yourself when you have your whole life ahead of you. It's the weekend! You should be going to parties, getting laid, getting completely and utterly wasted!"

She turns head away, burying her face in a pillow. "I don't have the time, energy, or money to do any of those things anymore. I don't want to anyway. I like sitting here and hating myself, okay? It's, like, my favorite thing to do."

Used to hearing this kind of talk, Hanji can only sigh. She wrestles Petra's pillow away from her and smacks her on the back with it. "I'm sick of you rotting away here when you're not at work! Where is the old Petra I knew? The one who wanted to turn her life around? The one who came home with a smile even if it was a hard day at work? The one who would brighten this entire apartment with her beautiful singing voice?"

"Well, working as a waitress kind of crushes your soul after a while," Petra says, rubbing the spot where Hanji had hit her.

That and also getting a divorce at the ripe age of twenty-five really changes you as a person. Not that she ever talks about that. Well, she used to when it first happened, but now it wears her out just thinking about it now. She doesn't want to remember the guy she spent five years with, putting her dreams and passions on hold so she could be supportive of his, or think about the women he cheated on her with. She doesn't want to think about the house he left her in that she couldn't afford, the fact that he left her with absolutely no money because he closed their bank account, or the letter that he left her when she came back from a visit from her parent's house to find the house empty and all his things gone. No, she doesn't want to think about any of those things at all, and she's grateful that Hanji never mentions any of it despite knowing that they're what make her the way she is now.

"And anyway," Petra says glumly, sitting up and frowning, "the neighbors hate my singing. Remember that noise complaint?"

Four years of college and all she got was a degree in musical theatre. They should have just given her a death certificate when she walked up the stage to get her diploma. That would pretty much be the same thing, right? And now she can't even sing because it's "disturbing the peace." She should have gotten in a degree in something useful like software engineering or graphic design, something that wouldn't doom her to a life of misery and minimum wage jobs.

"Is it that weird guy who moved in a few weeks ago?" Hanji asks, wrinkling her nose.

"Probably. I don't know. I get the feeling he doesn't like me though. He always has this frown on his face whenever he sees me, you know?" Petra says. "And we didn't get any noise complaints until he came. Is my singing really that annoying?"

Hanji wraps Petra in a hug, squeezing her so tightly that Petra's sure her bones will break. "Petra, my love! Your singing is the most heavenly thing I have ever heard in my life! He's a fool to not realize your voice is a gift from the gods," Hanji cries, giving Petra a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Okay, okay," Petra says, laughing.

"Hey, there's your smile! I was beginning to think you had forgotten how to do that!" Hanji says. She pinches Petra's cheeks affectionately, stretching out her face into an even bigger grin. "I've missed seeing this!"

Petra giggles, swatting her friend's fingers away. "By the way, Hanji," Petra says. She sniffs the air to make sure, but there is definitely something burning. "Did you leave the stove on?"

"Oh, _shit_ ," Hanji curses before running to the kitchen to turn off the stove.

At least they didn't have to use the fire extinguisher this time.

* * *

She doesn't see him often or at least she tries not to. Usually, it's just a glimpse of him as they both fumble with their keys to make it into their respective apartments. He always has a child in tow, although she's still not sure if the girl is really his because she doesn't see a ring on his finger and there doesn't see a ring around his finger or even a mark of there ever being one. It could be that he's a single parent, divorced just like her. She really shouldn't be nosy about it though.

Except she can't stop thinking about it when life thrusts them in the elevator together and she can't really think about anything else except the two other people in the elevator – the man who lives next to her and the child that's always with him.

The child looks at her with large inquisitive eyes. They're very pretty eyes, Petra thinks, and nothing like the man's. Her hair is a dark raven black just like his though, making her believe that they must be related in some way. The child can't be very old. Probably six or seven. She has a solemn expression that makes her seem older than that though, but she still has baby fat in her cheeks.

"Do you need help?" the girl asks Petra.

Petra's so surprised to have the girl speak to her that she nearly drops her bags, but she manages to force a smile on her face and reply, "Ah, it's fine! I'm used to this and they're not really that heavy. Please don't worry about me."

"It's okay," the girl assures her. She's already reaching for a bag that dangles from Petra's hand. It's the one filled with the strange herbs that Hanji asked Petra to get earlier. They'll end up throwing them out in the end, Petra knows, but she never has the heart to tell Hanji no. "I'm very strong."

The dark-haired man touches the girl gently on the shoulder, pull her back. "Don't talk to strangers," he tells her. He doesn't even look at Petra.

Petra's cheeks flush, embarrassed to be called a stranger as if it's her secret plan to kidnap the child from right under the man's nose. She turns to give the young girl a small smile to tell her it's okay, but the child is glaring at the man now.

"She's not a stranger. She lives next door to us. You know her." Breaking free from the man's grip, the girl steps closer to Petra before yanking the bag of herbs away from her. "I'm Mikasa. This is my uncle Levi. He's really my cousin, but he's old so I call him my uncle so my friends don't get confused."

Petra looks up at the man – Levi – who is scowling at his cousin. She tries her hardest not to smile, thinking that his expression is so silly and childish. "Well, it's nice to meet you two. I'm Petra."

Levi eyes her warily and when the elevator doors open – a sharp _ping!_ to indicate that they have arrived on their floor – she expects him to run off with Mikasa, but he holds the door open for her and gestures for her to leave first.

"Thanks," Petra says, surprised. She takes a step out and the two follow behind her.

"You live next door to us," Mikasa says again. When they arrive at their apartments, Levi unlocks the door immediately like he's ready to escape, but Mikasa stands there leaning against the wall as she waits for Petra to unlock her door, something that's difficult for her to do since her arms are filled with the bags of groceries. "You don't sing anymore though. That was you, right? You were the one singing."

"Er, yes, that was me," Petra says. She prays she doesn't drop the eggs as she rustles through her purse for her keys. Everything seems to get lost in her bag these days. She should really clean it up more.

Beside them, Levi taps his foot impatiently. He hisses a quiet "Mikasa," but the girl doesn't move from her spot. He probably doesn't want the noise complaint to come up in the conversation. It seems that Mikasa doesn't know about it.

"Why don't you sing anymore?" Mikasa asks. Her head is tilted, curious.

"Well, I had a noise complaint," Petra mumbles, sighing when she finally fishes her keys out of her purse. She chances a brief glance a Levi, but he doesn't look like he feels guilty. He still just looks like he wants to get out of there.

"Noise complaint?" Mikasa asks, her pretty little face twisted in confusion. Her eyebrows are knitted together and she's frowning. "But your singing is so beautiful. Levi and I liked listening to it."

" _Mikasa._ "

"That's very kind of you to say," Petra says, jiggling her key in the door handle to open the door. It takes her a while to realize what Mikasa has just said. She looks at Levi and then again at Mikasa. "Did you say you both liked my singing?"

"Oh, yes," Mikasa says, nodding. "Your voice is very 'exquisite,' as my friend would say. And Levi would tell me it was an angel singing next door. He likes it when you sing Disney songs the best, like that song Ariel sings in _The Little Mermaid_. I like _Mulan_ better though."

"Yeah, _Mulan_ is a good movie," Petra murmurs, staring now at Levi. She would wonder about who filed the noise complaint if it wasn't him, but she's too busy thinking that he looks rather funny when he's flustered.

She had thought he could only ever looked disgruntled, but it turns out he can be embarrassed sometimes too. The tips of his ears are red, and his cheeks are flushing the same color. He looks just about ready to disappear into his apartment, but he has to get Mikasa first.

"You need to get in here _now_ ," Levi growls at Mikasa. He takes the bag from her and holds it out to Petra who takes it with an amused expression. He hastily ushers the child into his apartment despite her protests that she didn't get to say a proper goodbye. He's about to shut the door behind him but leaves the door open a crack, popping his head out to mutter a quick "bye."

She'd laugh if she weren't afraid of embarrassing him even more. He might never show his face again. Instead, she smiles and says, "Hey, Levi."

The door opens just a smidge wider and his face appears again. He still isn't looking at her though. "What is it?"

"It was nice meeting you."

There's a beat of silence, but he finally replies. "Nice to meet you too."

She giggles right after his door shuts. What a strange guy. But at least he's not an ass who hates musicals. And he likes Disney too. Who would have thought? Hanji's never going to believe it.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thanks again for reading and for the encouragement :D I will continue to write as long as people enjoy my writing ^^_

 **Word Count:** _2099_


	18. Be Still My Heart

**A/N:** _A belated graduation gift for my friend Silver. Thank you for always being so supportive of me always and reading my things! Hope your summer is grand and that the future that awaits you is bright and wonderful!_

 _The second part to the Jane Eyre AU which can be read in chapter 14 (The Sound in the Attic). I wish there was a better way to organize these things ^^_

* * *

Petra does not believe herself to be very good of an actress. Whenever her master comes, she must bite her lip to keep from gasping in surprise for it seems he's always popping up behind her when she least expects it, startling her for more reasons than he knows. He teases her, joking that she's faint-hearted, and she can only laugh weakly in response, hoping that he does not suspect how fake her smile is. Even her peers have begun to suspect that she's behaving more oddly than usual, but their theories are so far off that she never bothers to correct them, believing that it is better for them to be wrong than to ever find out what she's up to. She bites her tongue and smiles at them when they tease her about her relationship to the master even though the talk of it makes her stomach turn and her head feel light. She bears with it though, thinking that she can get out of this soon if she just behaves like she did before.

She doesn't know how she acted before all this though. She cannot fathom how she had ever thought her master charming or gentlemanly. She doesn't even see how she could find him handsome at all when his smile makes her shudder because she remembers how it looked in the dark, sinister and disturbing but most of all empty of any true feeling. To think that she had once found his face attractive! She does her best not to look at him, keeping her eyes on the floor instead whenever he happens to be in the same room as him. It seems that he doesn't notice this very much, possibly attributing it to her bashful behavior which might have been heightened further by the teasing of the other servants around her. It's good that he believes this, she thinks, and yet it's torture for her for it seems that he's always hovering about her now, whispering playfully in her ear and brushing her shoulders when they come close to each other. She has to try her best not to pull away from him too suddenly, fearing that it might reveal her true feelings towards him, and she can only laugh nervously before making an excuse to hurry off and do another chore of some sort. It seems she can never get away quickly enough though.

It is not her forced laughter or the averted gaze that she believes will give her away in the end though. It is her beating heart, which threatens to beat itself out of her chest whenever Master Walcott is near. At times she finds herself placing her hand above her chest, holding her breath as she prays that he doesn't hear the thumping of her heart. If he does, she's surely done for. He must be deaf though because he never does. Instead, smiling at her and asking her if she is alright because she's holding her breath. It is only then that she remembers to breathe, letting out the breath she's been holding in for so long, and her cheeks flush as she assures him that she's fine and that it is kind of him to worry about her so much.

She should not be so surprised that Auruo is the one that suspects her of being any different. After all, he is her closest companion in this household. It is just that his theory for her being strange than usual is so scandalous that she nearly chokes on her biscuit.

"Excuse me?" Petra coughs, beating her chest and trying her best to dislodge the piece of bread stuck in her throat. When it seems she is done choking, she looks over at him, still not sure if she's heard him correctly. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you were pregnant," Auruo says, his voice low so that no one can overhear them. He looks around, but they are the only two people in the kitchen in this time of night. Everyone else has gone to bed. "You must admit that you've been acting unusual lately, Petra. You are not yourself. You look frightened most days and you look as if you are hiding something. It also seems that your appetite is not what it had been before. You pick at your food, eating only a few bites, but I see you sneak food out in your pockets after meals and then even more after everyone is asleep when your appetite can surely be satiated with what you have been given. So tell me in truth, you are surely not with child, are you? Not with Master Walcott's child or any other man's?"

She is simultaneously amused and disgusted with this assumption. However, she finds his earnest expression too sweet to be mad at him and says gently, "No, not at all. I have just been feeling unwell as of late, but your concern is deeply appreciated."

"It is true you are only sick then?" Auruo says suspiciously. He doesn't believe her, and his brows are knitted in concern. They are dear friends, have been ever since Petra had begun working there, and he cannot fathom what secret she could hold that she would need to keep things hidden from him. "Tell me truly, Petra, because I have been worrying myself sick thinking about what could trouble you so. Even when you are feeling ill, you are not nearly as strange as this. It seems the smallest things startle you and I hear you wandering in the night sometimes. If there is anything at all that bothers you, you will tell me, won't you?"

She had never known true friendship until she had met Auruo. She had first thought him pompous and arrogant, but he only pretended to be, and she found that such characteristics hid the truly kind and caring person he was on the inside. The men that worked at the manor she found to be vapid and boring, only interested in bragging about how much money they make at the manor and the luxuries they can afford with their high pay. The women were similar, discussing various dresses and fabrics and jewelry they could buy. They simply laughed whenever Petra would speak of how grand Rosewood was compared to her previous workplaces, they laughed and told her she was so quaint and charming. Auruo, however, listened with a careful ear and even remembered details about her silly childhood tales, never turning his head even if the story became sad and somber. He was kind and sweet and was the first person to treat her like a real person rather than an unrefined governess who didn't know anything about the lavish life at Rosewood. Thus, she finds it nearly impossible to lie to him like this, but she knows she must because it's dangerous to allow him to discover any inkling of the truth.

She reaches across the table to grasp his hand. "You are the person I trust most in the world," Petra tells him. She jokes with him a lot, teases him about his faults and idiosyncrasies, but she wants him to know that she is not jesting when she compliments him. "What I am going through is not something you should involve yourself with. I ask that you not question me any further for it will break my heart to refuse you, Auruo. If I could tell you anything at all, I would, but it is far too risky. Be satisfied to know that I am alright despite my strange behavior and help me in tricking others into believing nothing peculiar is happening."

He opens his mouth but realizes that there is nothing he can say that will make her change her mind. In fact, she would probably get angry at him if he were to continue pressing her. He must trust her as much as she trusts him. Finally, he asks, "You will let me know if I can do anything at all for you, won't you? You needn't even tell me the reason. Just tell me if you ever need an ally, and I will do everything in my power to assist you."

His serious tone almost makes her laugh, but she doesn't want to hurt his feelings. She smiles at her dear friend and tells him, "I will not hesitate to let you know." She looks at the sweet pastry he has still left on his plate and at her half-eaten one that she had meant to save for later. She asks, "Would it be too troublesome to ask you for your dessert? The chef is beginning to suspect one of the maids of pilfering food from the kitchens and I would hate to be caught."

Auruo looks cross for a second and Petra thinks that perhaps he's going back on his word. It is only when he shuts his mouth and begins to pout that she realizes that he's unhappy at being asked to give up his dessert without being given a reason. She has to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

"Here," he says, shoving the pastry at her. He has to turn his head, looking away from it so that he doesn't change his mind. "I didn't think you would ask for my help so soon."

Petra smiles, wrapping the little tart up carefully in her handkerchief before putting it in the pocket of her skirt. She gets up from her seat to kiss him sweetly atop his head. "I will bake you something in return for this although I cannot promise that it will be as good as this."

"Then bake me ten more in its place and I will be satisfied," Auruo grumbles, but she knows he'll be content even if she just bakes him one.

* * *

She has made this trip a dozen times now, traversing along the long dark halls of Rosewood in the middle of the night and creeping up the attic. Still, the silence of the house scares her for it makes the sound of her heart seem so much louder. It seems louder, she thinks, than even the quiet tiptoe of her footsteps, and she's sure that her heartbeat will wake someone and give her away in the end. She is always surprised when it never does and finds that her heart steadies itself once she finally makes it up the steps to the attic, the door shut softly behind her.

"I have more food for you," she says softly to the man tied to the corner of the room. She steps there carefully, avoiding any of the creaking floorboards.

"It's not the same as yesterday, is it?" the man asks. He allows her to untie the ropes that bind him. She's tied and untied them enough times to remember how to do and undo them without her master noticing a difference. When his hands are free, he rubs at the marks that they leave behind on his wrists, frowning.

Levi Ackerman of the Ackerman family, held hostage here so that Master Walcott can force the wealthy family to give him money for as long as he keeps Levi alive. Her master, depending on the Ackermans to sustain his luxurious lifestyle, allows Levi to live but only barely. When Petra had found him for the first time in the attic, the man's face was gaunt, pale and thin. He was more like a skeleton than a man. Now that she has come every night to sneak in her leftover meals, he looks a little less scary now. It's only a little bit more food than he's normally allowed – although she's not sure if Master Walcott feeds him at all – but his face looks fuller now and the look in his eye is not nearly as hopeless as it once was. Sometimes, she thinks that he could be handsome if he were just allowed to eat as one should and that there is something kind in him despite all the cruelty he's faced at the hand of her master.

"Well, I apologize if it's isn't to your taste," she mumbles, retrieving the leftovers she has in her pocket and praying that they haven't crumbled to bits. She unfolds her handkerchief and presents it to him – a misshapen biscuit with a tiny bit of butter on it, a morsel of the beef served at dinner, and the little pastries that she had managed to ask of Auruo. Looking at it, she feels ashamed at being unable to provide him with a full meal. "I'm sorry that this is so little."

"Do not apologize," he tells her, taking the poor excuse of a meal from her. His face is bruised and his limbs have scars and scabs all around them, but he's surprisingly gentle in his touch. He picks up the biscuit, eating it all in only a few bites. "This is far better than what Walcott has provided me with. I am grateful that he is not selfish when feeding his servants."

His words are meant to be kind, but they only make her feel guiltier at her inability to do anything for him when she's being paid and fed so well at Rosewood. It's strange to know this horrible side of her master when he's the one giving her a place to sleep and food to eat, but she knows it's only one part of him. The other part of him is cruel and unforgivable. She wonders what Levi Ackerman thinks of her betraying her master.

"The tart is from Auruo," Petra tells him. She curls up her legs beneath her chin, only her feet peeking out beneath her gown. She wraps her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. "I am so lucky to have a friend as kind as he."

"Hm," Levi responds. He looks at her carefully, not taking his eyes off her even as he licks a crumb from his thumb. "Are you good friends?"

"Oh, yes," Petra says immediately, but she feels embarrassed right after. How strange it is to be discussing such things with him even though he is nearly a stranger to her. She doesn't want him to misunderstand either, and so she finds herself stumbling on her words as she explains, "He's the first friend I've made at Rosewood and he's ever so kind as to help me without asking me anything."

"Your good friend?" Levi asks. Although he's asked her this question, he seems to be more interested in the little stitches in her handkerchief than her answer.

"Yes," Petra says softly. "Possibly my dearest friend at Rosewood. I'm sure if you were ever to meet him you'd think him silly, and he is at times, but he is a kind soul underneath all that silliness."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead, he folds the handkerchief into little squares before handing it back to her. "Did you know, Miss Ral, that you're perhaps my closest friend at Rosewood?" he asks her. He says the words strangely as if he's never had anyone close to him before, but he keeps his eyes steady on her as she reaches for her handkerchief, their fingers brushing.

"Is that so?" she asks, her voice no more than a whisper. She's grateful for the darkness of the attic. Had there been even a little light, he would surely see the brilliant blush that blooms across her cheeks now.

"It is," he replies. His cool gray eyes have such a breathtaking intensity to them that she forgets how to breathe for a second. "To be shown such kindness in a time where I am facing such cruelty, I am truly blessed that a kindred spirit such as yourself found me in this darkness."

She hears it then, the growing _thump, thump, thump_ of her heart. The sound of it reverberates across the walls, echoing in the quiet of the attic. She places a hand over her breast, hoping to silence it, but it only beats louder, harder, bruising her chest. She's sure that it's about to burst, and she bites her lip, praying that it will quiet itself soon. It's strange because it has never beat like this before, threatening to burst out of her and reveal its presence to him. Even stranger is that she cannot stop it from beating or even slow it down no matter how much she tries to empty her mind. It seems that being in his presence makes it speed up senselessly with no sign of stopping. She thinks it will be the death of her.

He watches her closely. "Is something the matter?" he asks her.

"Nothing at all," she tells him, smiling weakly and hoping that he won't see through her lie.

"I see," he says simply, but she can tell he isn't a fool. He's far more observant than her master and she fears that he can hear the beating of her heart. Even worse, he may know the reason for it, but he doesn't say anything more about it and she can only pretend that everything is the same even though her heart continues to beat, the only noise in this otherwise silent house.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I find it strange that so many people liked the first one. Hopefully people will like this one as much though! I don't really read Victorian gothic novels all that often, but Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey, which satirizes the genre, was delightful!_

 _Have you guys been watching SnK s3? I watched it twice today - once with my sister and again with my boyfriend. He was very shaken by the death of a character despite knowing of it since he read the manga, haha. He's so silly. Uprising is my favorite arc although I do miss original Squad Levi very much!_

 **Word Count:** _2883_


	19. Old-Fashioned

**A/N:** _I was thinking about what to name this, but then I thought of Panic at the Disco's new album, haha. Someone wanted big city Rivetra, so here it is!_

* * *

Levi dislikes being dragged through a crowd, but it's impossible to avoid when you're living in the bustling city of Sina. When you're living in a place that's constantly buzzing with the sound of car horns from disgruntled drivers stuck in traffic or pedestrians shouting at strangers in the street for bumping into each other, you understand why the city is referred to as the concrete jungle. And he doesn't mind it, he thinks to himself through gritted teeth, navigating these crowds while the girl grabbing his hand leads him to the café at the corner of the street. At any rate, it beats sitting in the car for a forty-five-minute drive when walking would only take half that time. Ah, the great city.

"Are you alright?" Petra asks, looking behind her. She slows down but doesn't stop completely. You don't stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk, not if you want to avoid getting trampled.

"I'm fine," he tells her, He picks up the pace because they're beginning to get dirty looks from people rushing by them, angry at them for even existing because they're another obstacle in way of their weekend yoga classes or organic produce store.

It feels odd to be the one trailing behind her. Really, he should be the one leading, but it always seems like she's the one taking charge. He's not quite sure how it happened, but it's been like that since he asked her out on that first date. It was fine then. He was still fumbling with his words, only half-sure of where to take her and what to do after dinner. As soon as he said those words – stuttered them actually, stumbling over the words, because he was too nervous – she said yes (much to his surprise) and immediately decided where to go and what to do. That was fine with him at the time because despite living in the big city for most of his life, it's not like he went out too often. He didn't even find it troublesome in follow-up dates because she seemed to enjoy their outing so much, but he realizes now he should have been concerned all along.

It's not that he's afraid of a woman that can take charge. He's just afraid someday she'll be tired of dragging him along. What kind of man is he that he can't even decide on one date to take her on?

Even now, a month after they first began going on lunch dates and dinner dates and brunch dates and coffee dates and all sorts of dates, she simply sweeps him into the café, asking him sweetly to save a table for them because "your face is sure to frighten off anyone who's even thinking of sitting where you're looking."

He can't even offer to pay because she's already off to order, asking if he wants his coffee black like he usually does and leaving before he can answer. That's fine. He needs more time to properly word the question in his mind.

A few days ago, Hanji had asked him if he and Petra were going out.

He wasn't sure why Hanji was asking him for such a question. Petra posted enough about their outings on Instagram and Facebook for people to know the answer to that question without having to ask.

"We're going out," Levi said simply, his tone firm. He had no reason to doubt this fact, but Hanji's smirk made him second-guess his answer. Feeling that they knew something he didn't know, he couldn't help but add, "Right? Isn't it obvious?"

"If it's so obvious," Hanji said, lying down on the couch and flipping through their phone, "why would you have to look to me for confirmation?"

"Why would you have to ask me about it at all!" Levi asked, frustrated. He disliked these silly little games Hanji played with him, especially since they knew his incompetence with love and anything that has to do with romance. "I ask her out to eat and she's said yes every time. What more is there to it?"

"Yes, but have you guys DTR'd yet?" Hanji asked.

"DTR?" Levi repeated. He hoped it wasn't anything like DTF. Hanji once mentioned that before in a conversation and had to define it for him. He thought it would have been better if he never knew about the acronym in the first place.

"Defined the relationship!" Hanji said, sitting up and wagging a finger at him. "Have you? You haven't even changed your Facebook relationship status yet. Maybe that's normal for you since you're hardly ever on Facebook, but don't you think that's strange for Petra? She's very up-to-date with her social media, you know."

It was just like Hanji to make him feel horribly insecure about his relationship. Levi was usually not one to freak out, but he was freaking out now and wondering how he could mess everything up when it seemed all was going well between him and Petra.

"Well, how do I fix it?" he asked.

He shouldn't have asked Hanji, who stared at him with a mischievous expression. He was sure they would give him some sort of nonsense advice about doing some sort of mating dance or organizing a flash mob to declare his love, but what they suggest is so much worse.

"You should talk to her about it," they say simply.

He would have rather done the flash mob.

But that's why he's here now at the café with the intent of asking Petra what exactly their relationship is. DTR-ing as the young people call it, apparently. Or at least Hanji, who sometimes mistakes themselves as a young person just because they get along well with Petra and the rest of her friends.

"Ugh, so bitter," Petra shudders after taking a sip of Levi's coffee. It's something she always does whenever she brings them their drinks even though the taste will never change. She sits it down in front of him, an exaggerated look of disgust on her face, before taking a seat across from him. "I don't know how you drink that stuff. Is it because you're old and bitter and need your coffee to be the same?"

"I'm not old or bitter," Levi grumbles. There are times where he wonders if Petra truly thinks he's all that much older than him. It's not like their age gap is very large. At least it's not like the Hollywood movies where the man's old enough to be the woman's father. "You just have an unnaturally sweet tooth. Coffee's not supposed to be oversaturated with sugar. Or have ice cream in it."

"Boohoo. It's not my fault your tongue isn't refined enough to enjoy the taste of a good affogato," Petra teases while he rolls his eyes. She stirs it up with a spoon before taking a sip, licking the creamy coffee off her lip before saying anything more. "Shouldn't you be saying nice things to me? Like 'Ah, it's probably because you need to drink sweet things to match your personality'!"

"Should I?" Levi asks. He fiddles with the lid of his coffee cup, looking down so that she doesn't see his frown as he wonders if that's why things aren't going right. Should he have complimented her from the very beginning? Was he supposed to pay her a compliment when he first saw her this morning? How often is he supposed to compliment her?

"Hey," Petra laughs, tilting her head to better see his expression. She reaches out, lifting his chin between her thumb and forefinger. "Are you really frowning about that? I was just kidding! Although I wouldn't complain if you were to say something nice about me once in a while."

"I see," Levi mumbles. Is that a boyfriend thing or a friend thing?"

Petra stops smiling when she sees Levi still wearing his troubled expression. She withdraws her hand, holding her cup nervously as she tries to understand why he's making such a face. "Did I upset you? Or am I not taking this seriously enough? Does this have anything to do with why you asked to see me today?"

"No, no, not at all," Levi says hurriedly. It doesn't matter if he's upset. If Petra's upset, then that's a problem. He hasn't even said a word about why he really wanted to meet with her yet and it's become a problem. "I just wanted…to DTR."

"DTR?" Petra repeats. She looks confused for a moment but then she mouths the acronym and then points her finger at him. "Define the relationship! Define this relationship? What about it are we defining?"

He's not sure if this is a good or bad reaction, but he's gone this far, and it can't get much worse than this. "I just wanted to know…if we were going out," he says finally.

"Going out? Aren't we out right now?" Petra asks. He thinks that she must be confused like he was when Hanji asked him the same question, but she begins to giggle, and he thinks it cruel that she can tease him about something like this. "Oh, don't look at me like that. If you could see your expression right now, you'd laugh too."

"Ha," he mutters. People think that he's mean, but Petra takes so much pleasure of teasing him and watching him squirm that he thinks she could be a sadist if she truly wanted to. "Hanji said I should make sure at least. Just make sure if we were going out as friends or going out as…well…"

"A couple?" Petra asks. The word falls out of her mouth so easily. She puts a spoonful of ice cream delicately in her mouth. "Well, it's the second one, isn't it? I mean, we do spend a lot of time together. I like you, and it's not like you hate me."

He glares at her when she says the last part, but she only gives him a cheeky grin in reply.

"You haven't updated your relationship status on Facebook though," he says, trying to keep his tone casual. He knows he's failed when she looks at him and laughs.

"Is that something that's been bothering you?" she asks. She takes out her phone and flips through it, tapping on the Facebook app icon once she finds it. "You should have told me earlier about it then. It's not that I mind having people know. It's just that people my age don't really care much about updating relationship statuses, but I should have considered how you'd feel. I forget how old-fashioned you are sometimes."

He doesn't even look at the newly updated status she shows him after she pushes her phone towards him so he can look at the screen. He's still trying to process what she's said and why she would say such a thing. "Old-fashioned?" he says. "You think I'm old-fashioned?"

"Hmm?" Petra says. She takes another sip of her affogato and looks at him thoughtfully. "Well, sometimes. You're not that much older than me, but you and I have very different thoughts on dating etiquette. You get disgruntled whenever I open the door for you instead of the other way around. You always bring flowers to my place even though I know you hate them. And you get grumpy when I pay for a meal even though we agreed to take turns."

"Isn't it normal for a guy to do those types of things?" Levi grumbles.

"Maybe it was a while ago, but it's the twenty-first century now," Petra laughs. "You can't really expect me to let you pay for every meal, Levi. The economy's terrible and you'd go broke. It only makes sense that I pay sometimes."

He can't deny that, so he rolls his eyes in response.

"Aw, don't be mad," Petra tells him. She finishes her drink, licking the spoon so that she doesn't miss even a drop of the sweet coffee-ice cream drink, and pushes it towards the center. When she sees Levi pull out a five-dollar bill and leave it on the table for the waiter to pick up when they're cleaning up. "Besides, I think it's kind of cute even if it feels like an old man from the 1920's is courting me."

"Are you done teasing me?" Levi sighs, quite used to this by now. He really should have never listened to Hanji. He would have been content never knowing his relationship status with Petra even if it meant taking her out without her ever using the word "boyfriend" when talking about him. "Can we leave now?"

"Are you going to pull out my chair for me?" she asks.

"No," he scowls as he waits for her to get out of her seat. Maybe he's old-fashioned, but he's not that old-fashioned.

She only laughs as she links their arms together and follows him wherever he wants to go, allowing him to lead the way for once.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Will work on another part to the Witch AU as well as a Handmaid's Tale AU ^^ The latter is such a timely request! I'm reading Margaret Atwood again :D_

 **Word Count:** _2165_


	20. Beating Heart

**A/N:** _Someone requested pregnant Rivetra a while ago (like a long while ago) on my Tumblr, haha. I never wrote it until now because I never knew how to go about it. Anyway, I'm really happy with how this turned out in the end._

* * *

Levi has purposely gone out of his way to avoid her. It's not that he has fallen out of love with her, but the thought of being with her now terrifies him. He probably should have been ecstatic when she told him the news even though they had their suspicions weeks ago when everything she ate made her queasy and her body ached every morning no matter how much she rested the day before.

 _Pregnant_ , she had told him, a dazzling smile on her face. _A baby! Our baby!_

He wonders if she knew that the smile he wore that day was fake. Somehow, he couldn't find it in himself to be happy even as his friends heard and congratulated him, slapping him on the back and inviting him out for drinks. It's not that he minded being a father either, although he had never given it much thought despite knowing that it would probably happen at some point in his future. It is the permanence of it all, especially now with this child that is meant to be theirs, that terrifies him so much.

While there is no one on this earth he'd rather be bound to than Petra, there are times where he wonders if she feels the same way. She has never done anything to make him believe so. His own self-hatred and doubt have made him insecure. With a history like his, he's sure that she'll change her mind at any second, but she's always held him so tightly with no sign of letting go. Even now as he's leaving the house, she wraps her arms around him as if she'll never see him again even though he'll be back by the end of the day.

"Hanji's coming over again to check on the baby," Petra tells him, arms still wrapped around his neck. "I'll let you know how it goes when you get home."

"Thanks," he mumbles into her hair. He tries to lift his hand, pat her on the top of the head, but she's already pulled away, so he shoves his hand back in his pocket.

He's thankful that she never asks him to attend doctor's appointments with her. She did the first time when she began going, her stomach flat but the baby still growing, and he had made up excuses about meetings that weren't happening and people he needed to meet that didn't exist. If she knew he was lying, she was kind enough not to say and just let him know of the appointments and what the doctor said. She never gave him more information than he needed though, possibly sensing his discomfort about the baby. He wonders if it hurts her that he never wants to talk about the baby.

In his office, he fiddles with his pen and ignores the paperwork piling up on his desk. After the war, there hasn't been very much work other than resettling beyond the Walls and making allies with those across the ocean. Apparently, it's a lot of paperwork. Not that he does very much of it. Still, he uses it as an excuse not to avoid Petra and the baby because he doesn't think he can stand being in the same house as them for more than a night.

How cruel to leave such a beautiful and devoted woman at home, he thinks, but it's not as if she's oblivious to his lies. She's always been more intelligent than people give her credit for and he's sure she's figured out the true reason for his absence around the house.

He taps the tip of his pen against a paper, watching as the ink dots the page over and over again.

But then how long has she been faking that smile of hers, the one she gives him before he leaves her every morning? She's mastered it, he thinks, because he can hardly tell this one from her real one. Surely, she must be angry at him because all he ever does is leave, but she's never said a word of it. He can't understand it at all. But it's just like her to stand by her despite him always running away. He really doesn't deserve her.

He picks up one of the forms, reading over it but the words blur together. He can't concentrate on the words printed on the pages. They aren't really important now that he thinks of it. They're not important when his wife is at home, waiting to be told about their child, so what is he doing in this office?

He doesn't want to be that man that abandons the ones who love and care for him the most. He hadn't realized that until now, he thinks as he throws on his coat, hardly bothering to flip down the collar as he rushes out the door. He doesn't mind the looks of others as he throws open the doors, making his way as quickly as possible to the house that he should never have left that morning. When people frown at him for pushing past the crowd, he simply scowls right back at them. There is nothing more important to him than getting back home.

When he bursts through the door, he finds Hanji's bags at the front. He finds them in them in the living room, Petra with the shirt raised to her chest to expose the smooth bump of her stomach which has grown considerably larger since she had first given him the news of her pregnancy. Hanji sits beside her, moving a rod-shaped device around on Petra's stomach.

Petra turns to Levi, a smile on her face. It's the same one she wore when he had left this morning. "Levi," she says. "You're home! You didn't have work?"

"I wanted to see you," he says to her, nervous somehow. He discards his coat on the couch and takes a seat on Petra's other side. Reaching for her hand, he intertwines their fingers. She must feel his anxiety because she gives him another smile and squeezes his hand gently. Looking at Hanji and the strange device they're wielding, he asks, "Is everything alright."

"Shh," the scientist tells him, concentrating on finding something. They hold the other end of a device, something that looks like a small radio, up to their ear and listen closely. When nothing is heard on the other end, they twist their mouth in a displeased frown and move the rod around Petra's stomach some more.

"It's fine," Petra whispers to him, giving his hand another reassuring squeeze. Somehow that's all he needs to feel better.

"There it is!" Hanji says excitedly. They offer the small radio part over to Petra, holding the rod steady on her stomach, but Petra shakes her head and motions for Hanji to hand it over to Levi.

Levi takes it carefully and puts it up to his ear. From the machine, he hears a beat, slow and steady, and somehow it's the only sound he ever wants to hear. A tiny heartbeat of a child not yet born, the most incredible sound in the world.

"It's beautiful," he breathes. He doesn't know when, but he's started crying.

"Isn't it?" Petra smiles as she reaches out to wipe a tear from his eye, the touch of her thumb tender on his cheek. "It's because it's beating for you."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you for the requests. I have to think about how to write them but know that I have written them down and will get to them as soon as possible! Continuations as well. As for creating a separate story...it's not something I plan on doing for any of the AUs because I don't have an entire story planned out for any of them ^^ Just bits and pieces, but nothing complete. Especially endings ^^" If I ever do get a Rivetra story that I feel confident in writing as a separate story, I will work really hard on it though!_

 _As always, thank you for the support!_

 **Word Count:** _1232_


	21. IT Help Desk

**A/N:** _Someone asked me a long time ago for a college AU and I had no idea what to do. I don't think IT help desks are particularly romantic though, but I find myself always having to go there at least once a year because my school e-mail requires you to reset your password once a year but...it also has no way to reset your password so you have to go to the IT_ help desk _. What a trap!_

 _College AU._

* * *

As a policy, Levi tries not to work with crying students because his people skills are already mediocre when both parties are emotionally stable. It's also why he tries to avoid working the night shift during finals weeks at the IT help desk, but it's not something he always has control over. He had hoped that Hanji would help him like they said they would, but when a literature major came sobbing to their corner of the room, Hanji simply waved a hand at him, mumbling something about how they were busy studying for their own exam tomorrow, and thus Levi found himself alone with the blubbering mess of a girl.

"Er," Levi says. He looks at the black screen on her laptop, his bewildered expression reflected in its surface, and then looks back at the sobbing girl. He remembers seeing her curled up on one of the couches of the library, furiously typing a paper of hers for the entire time she'd been there. He's pretty sure she hadn't even gone up for a bathroom break because she was so intent on finishing her paper. "May I help you?"

"My p-paper," the girl hiccups. Her eyes are swollen and red, and her nose is running. She hastily wipes her face with a crumpled tissue, but it looks like she's not going to finish crying anytime soon. "My laptop sh-shut down and n-n-now I can't turn it on! My paper was s-saved on there!"

"Okay," Levi says. He should be grateful that she is at least calm enough to let him know what was wrong with her laptop (even if the details are vague), but he can't stand her sniffling and tears, so he only fiddles with her laptop with a moment before accidentally snapping, "Could you quit crying?"

There is a beat of silence – Hanji looking up to see what had happened to make him shout at another student, the girl shocked into a brief moment of quiet, and the rest of the library inhabitants frozen in place to stare at what's happening at the IT help desk. Lastly, there's Levi realizing too late that he's lost his temper over something trivial and thinking that he's finally going to lose his unfulfilling but convenient job at the library.

He thinks for sure that the silence will be broken by the girl wailing even louder, tears falling down her cheeks like a waterfall, but he's wrong. It's so much worse. He knows already that the girl has an impressive pair of lungs from the way she had come up to his desk sobbing her heart out, but it's not until she begins to yell at him that he discovers how loud she can really be. What's worse is that she doesn't even start at her maximum volume; she starts quietly, her voice trembling slightly in barely contained fury, and it only grows from there.

"Excuse me," the girl says coldly. He thought her crying face was frightening enough, but somehow the deadly glare she gives him is even worse. He wishes he had never said anything at all. It's one thing to upset a student during the usual weeks of the school term, but upsetting them during finals week is another thing entirely. Her ginger hair, messy and unkempt, looks like it will burst into flames if she gets any angrier. "I came to you asking for help in my hour of need, to ask you to do something you're _paid_ to do, and _excuse me for crying over a paper that I worked my ass off for two weeks only for it to disappear in the blink of an eye that I have no idea how to get it back!_ "

"I really didn't mean that," Levi mumbles. He looks helplessly over at Hanji who only sniggers at him, one hand over their mouth to stifle their laughter. "It's just been a long night, you know." He doesn't even know why he's trying to backtrack now. It's far too late for that. He can't even apologize properly because she's going off on him without any sign of stopping.

"And I thought you would be nice enough to help me! You even offered, didn't you? If you didn't want to help me, you should have refused me in the beginning!" the girl says, her voice rising to a shrill crescendo. She shuts her laptop angrily, tears beginning to appear again. If she cries again, he doesn't think he'll be able to handle it. "I'll have you know that my night, my whole week probably, is far more unpleasant than yours is, so I don't see how you can even be upset when you're just sitting here doing nothing except _yelling_ at the poor souls who come here for your help!"

"Please," Levi says weakly, but the library receptionists are already there tugging at the girl's sleeve, ready to ask her politely to leave the premises because she's disturbing the customers.

"Oh, let go of me," the girl says, yanking herself away from the poor library workers. She grabs her laptop, holding it against her chest, and storms off, but not before stopping and turning around to give Levi a few last words. "I hope you have a wonderful night, sir, and thank you _so much_ for all your help," she says sarcastically, her words dripping with venom. She turns around and marches off in a huff. It's a good thing the library doors are automatic. He's sure she'd slam them shut and shatter all the glass if they weren't.

Hanji's still giggling after all that. Compared to the girl's yelling, their muffled laughter is hardly a disturbance in this sacred study space, but it's still enough to irritate Levi who's trying his best to forget all of this. Strange how they were too busy to help him with the girl a few minutes ago but has enough time to spend a solid five minutes laughing over the whole thing afterward.

"Are you done?" Levi asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone except your mother yell at you like that," Hanji snickers, wiping a tear from their eye. They sigh, finally done laughing, and grin. "And you didn't even do anything! You just stood there and let her yell at you! Although I do feel bad for the poor kid. I've seen her writing that paper in here for the past couple of days. If it's all really gone, it's probably going to put a dent in her GPA."

"Well, that's not my problem," Levi grumbles. He catches Hanji giving him a funny look and he frowns. "What? It's difficult helping someone when they're crying their eyes out. If you feel so bad, why don't you go and help her?"

"Because I am severely behind on studying," Hanji reminds him, waving their notes in his face. It's littered with equations stuffed into the margins and a myriad of things highlighted in all sorts of colors on all the pages. Levi's not sure how they make sense of anything they've written, but they always manage to pass classes with flying colors, so he's not too worried about them. "And it's not like you have finals to study for since all your exams are open note."

Levi would protest, but it's not like he was going to study for his exams anyway. He usually gets a decent enough grade on homework and midterms that he doesn't need to worry about final exams. He doesn't care too much about his grade just as long as he passes the class.

Hanji nudges him with the tip of their foot. "Don't you feel even a little bit bad though? I mean, you were her Obi-Wan Kenobi. Her only hope."

"If she wrote it once, she can write it again," Levi replies, but he knows even that's cruel to say. The girl is probably burnt out from writing it the first time. If she were to write it again, it would probably resemble her first paper but would be completely riddled with typos and grammar issues because of the stress of not getting it done on time, and she wouldn't have time to proofread it even if she were lucky enough to finish her paper. Before he knows it, he's packing up his things, eyes fixed on the door that the girl had left through.

"Where are you going?" Hanji asks, amused.

"Bathroom break," Levi mutters. He stops before hopping over the IT help desk (which he isn't really supposed to do, but he hardly has the patience to walk out the proper exit in the back) and turns back to ask Hanji, "What other places on campus are open 24-hours this week?"

"The cafeteria isn't but it's open pretty late. The café near the art building is open for 24-hours though," Hanji says with a grin. They lean against the counter, chin resting on their hand. "You know, Levi, you're really not that heartless."

He hops over the IT desk and flips her the finger before leaving, making sure to grab his coffee before he leaves.

* * *

He finds her at the café (feeling that the cafeteria wasn't really the place to be completing a paper). Her bright ginger hair makes it easy to spot her. That and the fact that most people have returned to their dorm to sleep since it's way past midnight. There are a couple of people dozing off in the café though, their heads resting on the little café tables as they snore loudly. The girl, however, is still fiddling with her laptop, pressing the power button on and off and seeing no changes in her laptop screen at all. She hardly even notices when he plops down right next to her.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses, but she keeps her voice lowered. It seems that she's far less energetic than she was when she was in the library because she only looks at him in disbelief when he snatches her laptop away from her. "Are you going to yell at me again?"

"You're the one that yelled at me," Levi tells her. He presses the power button again (ignoring her when she says, "I tried that already,") and frowns. "So it won't turn on. Do you what made it shut down in the first place?"

"Well, no," the girl says, "but that's why I came to you guys in the first place except you were so _rude_ –!"

He really wishes she would stop bringing that up. He'd apologize, but he's afraid of coming off as insincere. Maybe if he fixes this, it'll serve as his apology instead. Gritting his teeth, he asks, "Yes, but do you remember what you were doing before it shut down? Did you have any other programs open on your laptop? Was it running slowly? Did you have any issues before?"

She blinks at him, surprised that he's actually offering to help her after everything that had happened before. "Well," she says hesitantly. "No, not that I can say. I had just my word processor on and was playing music in the background. It just suddenly shut off all of a sudden."

"Can I unplug everything?" he asks her. She nods once, and he unplugs her charger, rolling up the cord neatly and setting it aside. Her earbuds have already been unplugged and the only other thing she has attached to her laptop is a USB stick, which he also takes out. He pushes it aside and folds her laptop down, turning it upside down and unlocking the back where the battery is. "How old is your laptop?"

"Er, a year and a half?" she says, unsure. "I got it my freshman year."

"You're not a freshman?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. From her height (although he's not one to talk since he's only an inch or two taller than her) and her panicked outburst earlier, he was sure that she was a first-year student. "Sophomore? Junior?"

"A sophomore," she frowns. "Did you think I was a freshman?"

He doesn't answer. He simply takes out the battery from the back of her laptop and then flips it over again, opening up the laptop. He points at the power button and says to the girl, "Hold that for me for ten seconds, will you?" She's confused, but she does so while he inspects the battery, blowing off some of the dust. After ten seconds have passed, she lets go and he turns the laptop around once more, inserting the battery and sets the laptop down. "Try it now."

The girl frowns but she pushes the power button and the screen finally lights up. "Oh," she breathes. She puts a hand over her heart as if to contain her happiness. "At least that works."

"Eh, I wouldn't worry too much about your paper even if you didn't manage to save it," Levi says. He glances briefly at the screen as she logs in. It says "Hello, Petra!" across a forest background. Her icon is a picture of her and a black and white tabby. "I can get those for you too if you want."

"Would you?" the girl says. She gives him a tired smile. "I'd be so thankful if you did."

"It'll only take a few seconds," Levi tells her. He navigates through her documents, trying not to be startled by the numerous files and folders she has. "You write a lot?"

"You have no idea," she yawns only barely covering her mouth. She rests her arms on the table and uses them as a pillow. "I've had a due every week for two of my classes and that's on top of all the reading I have to do."

"It's what you get for being a lit major," Levi says. He clicks a few times and finally opens a recovered file of her lost paper. He slides the laptop over to her but taps her USB. "Save that in there before you start in case anything else happens so you won't have to start all over if anything else happens."

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" the girl says, smiling sleepily at him. While she looked absolutely terrifying while angry, she actually looks quite nice when she's smiling, Levi thinks. "Sorry I yelled at you earlier. Especially since it's finals week."

"It's fine," Levi shrugs, fidgeting in his seat awkwardly. He's never been good with apologies, giving or receiving them. "I shouldn't have yelled at you when you were already stressed out. My finals are all open note anyway, so it's not like I have anything to worry about."

"Lucky you," Petra laughs. She yawns again and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. She stretches her arms above her head and rolls her neck around before hunching over her laptop once more. "Thanks again. If I had to start this over again, I think I'd go crazy. You were a big help. Good luck with your finals!"

"Thanks, you too," Levi says. He stands up, not quite knowing how to say goodbye but not wanting to bother her anymore. He's about to just walk off and return to his place at the IT desk, but he remembers his coffee and sets it beside her. When she looks up at him surprised, he mumbles, "You've been up for a long time and you still need to finish your paper. That should keep you awake until you finish anyway."

The girl takes the coffee, holding the cup carefully in her hands, and takes a sip. "Oh, jeez. This is really going to help," she smiles. She looks a little more awake already. "Thanks again. Maybe I'll see you after finals?"

"Yeah," Levi says, shifting his bag on his shoulder and shrugging. "See you around." He really doubts that they'll see each other again – they're in different years and in two different majors – but it was a pretty…interesting experience overall.

* * *

He gets a few more people asking for help with similar problems – not connecting to wi-fi, recovering lost files, and resetting their passwords to school accounts. Hanji, of course, doesn't help him with any of these things because they have finals to study for until the end of the week.

"Hey," a voice says.

"Can I help you?" he asks. When he looks up, he finds the girl from the other day. Petra, he remembers. "Is your laptop not turning on again?"

"Huh? Oh, no," the girl laughs. She shifts the bag on her shoulder – the oversized thing bursting with papers – and sets a coffee onto the desk in front of him. "I wanted to say thanks for saving my paper the other night. I just realized afterward that I never caught your name. Mine is Petra, by the way. Petra Ral."

He already knows, but he doesn't tell her that. Instead, he says, "Levi Ackerman." Pointing at the coffee she had slid across the desk, he asks, "Is this for me?"

"Yeah," she says. She gives him an apologetic smile. "It's not as good as the one you gave me but…"

He tries not to spit it out once he takes a sip. Hanji always makes fun of him for having such a particular palate, but this tastes like dirt. He manages to swallow it down before coughing, "Where did you get this?"

"From the school café," she giggles. "Is it that bad?"

"It's the worst," Levi tells her. He's not sure he'll finish the rest of it even if she did go out of her way to buy it for him as thanks.

After being unavailable for the past few days, Hanji decides that now is the time to pop up from behind the IT help desk, leaning across the table and looking down at Petra with a seductive grin. "Is this the cutie that you upset the other day, Levi? I didn't have a chance to speak with you the other night, but I hope Levi managed to fix your problem afterward. You know, I was the one who convinced him to run after you," Hanji tells Petra.

Petra seems quite enchanted by Hanji and Hanji gives Levi a look that says they won't think twice about whisking the sophomore away right this minute, so Levi hastily gets his things and walks out of the IT room. Grabbing Petra by the wrist, he drags her away before Hanji has the chance to make the moves on her.

"Where are you going?" Hanji asks teasingly.

"Break," Levi grumbles. "Cover my shift. You owe me for the past few days." To Petra, he says, "You've lived here for a year and a half and you still haven't managed to find a place that sells decent coffee?"

She gives him a sheepish grin. "I was writing papers."

"Come on then," he sighs. "I'll introduce you to the only place near campus that sells coffee worth buying. I'll even buy it for you this time just to make up for the crappy coffee you bought me, but you're buying the next one."

"Sounds good," she says. She smiles again and, Levi decides, her smiling face most definitely more pleasing than her crying one.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Now that I think of it, I've been at my school for four years (and onto another for my master's) and I have no idea where anything is because I always just sit at the library and then go home, haha. That's pretty sad. I just found out the other day that my kindergarten teacher went there for her master's too! What a small world._

 **Word Count:** _3210_


End file.
